Goodbye

Farewell to a most romantic, sunny, polluted city -- all the sweet bread and fruit ice cream, tacos and tortas, women in tight jeans and cat-calling men, city buses and cowboy boots, friends and family. I will be back.

Click on the photo above to see a set of my photos on Flickr, a collection of downtown Guadalajara facades.

"Mercado Corona, a vibrant market with tales to tell"

(Published May 3, 2008 in the Guadalajara Reporter)

Calle Santa Monica, a few blocks from the downtown cathedral and running perpendicular to Avenida Hidalgo, is choked with foot traffic at midday and smells of roasted meat, spices and strawberries mellowing in the sun. A blue cement awning provides shade for the peripheral vendors at one of Guadalajara’s most historic markets, the Mercado Corona, beckoning visitors inside.

Judging from the dogged faces of shoppers waiting in lines for rice and chili in bulk, none is too concerned that the ground on which they stand has been steeped in a Tapatio insurgent’s blood, swept by a mysterious epidemic, and held the ashes of its thrice-razed market predecessors. They are, instead, picking through bruised mangoes, resting on stools to munch on freshly fried tacos dorados, and gulping down aguas frescas of mango and plum.

The Mercado Corona is ripe for exploring: it’s a less daunting version, with more specialized products, of the Mercado Libertad or the Mercado Abastos. The focus is food. Some cheap clothes, jeans and hair products are for sale, but the Sunday Santa Teresita open-air tianguis might be more suited for browsing those items.

The historic indoor market covers two floors and one city block. Fresh bread – bolillos, pan dulce, and wrapped cookies – is the main spread found along the building’s perimeter, as well as honey sold in plastic jars.

Here on the edge, fruit is also sold, but better prices are found elsewhere. Vendors benignly hound customers with calls of “Que te doy?” and “Que ocupas?” as they make their way indoors.

Inside, a thousand scents converge at once: sour, salty cotija cheese, tongue and pork sides grilling on open comales, bitter dried herbs hanging from nails and sugar-sweet pineapples dripping from their bases.

In spite of considerable chaos around lunchtime when hungry passersby swarm the small indoor restaurants, the Mercado Corona enjoys a consistent peace compared to its existence in previous centuries.

The market, named after the assassinated general Ramon Corona, was patriotically inaugurated on September 15, 1891, only to be burned to the ground in 1910 by revolutionary fires.

After two more reconstructions and two more deadly conflagrations, it occurred to city officials to rebuild with cement, and since 1962, has stoically sat in its current flameproof state.

The original grounds, long before a market was ever conceived, belonged in the mid-1500s to the bishop Cipriano de Nava, who lived in an old house on the land. In 1573 he founded a school for girls called Santa Catalina de Siena, which was converted a few years later to a convent. Years later, the ayuntamiento bought up the estate and there built the Hospital San Miguel.

A strange, unidentified epidemic hit the city just after the turn of the 18th century, and the hospital, filled to capacity with sick patients, needed help. At the same time, a religious order called the Bethlehemites were seeking asylum, and thus commanded care at the forsaken hospital, appropriating the facilities after the epidemic dissipated. A more modern hospital was built elsewhere in the late 1700s and San Miguel was officially abandoned.

The site’s incarnation as a market began in the early 1800s, as a haphazard tianguis began to spring up in the area. Guadalajara’s ayuntamiento decided to build an official market designed in a popular French style, gaining profit by charging vendors taxes.

It was on that very stage where Jose Antonio Torres, the illustrious Mexican insurgent who fought Spanish royalist troops until his capture in 1812, was executed. The particular method was a testament to his crimes against the Spanish state: the Independence hero was hanged, dismembered (each limb carried to a different town), and decapitated, after which officials displayed his head for 40 days. Once Mexico gained independence from Spain, the market was appropriately named “Mercado Independencia.”

Today the only blood shed on the grounds belongs to slaughtered livestock, splayed and pared on cutting blocks behind glass shields. But the spot’s tumultuous story will remain a legacy to a righteous figure in Mexico’s history.

At the heart of the covered building on the first floor, several competing women with giant covered baskets, elevated by stools and crates, broadcast their product with earsplitting repetitions of “Cinco por diez pesos! Acaban de salir! Calientitos! Cinco por diez pesos! Acaban de salir!” The women, selling much loved tacos de canasta with potato, bean, and pork fillings, dish out the soft tacos onto plastic plates which customers douse with thick sauces, shredded cabbage, and pickled nopal and carrots.

Wandering up the sloped walkway to the second floor, visitors pass stands selling baskets of all shapes and small tokens given out at baptisms, weddings and anniversary parties.

Upstairs is an herbarium of sorts, stands and walls piled high with dried plants used as remedies for various ailments. Among them are flor de manita (calms the nerves), cola de caballo (good for arthritis and osteoporosis), and an ostensibly cure-all mix called el boldo consisting of chopped barks and grass, boiled into a bitter tea (aids digestion). Thick, arm-length cactus stems, de-thorned and stacked like bones, are said to benefit patients suffering from cancer.

It is also upstairs where prayer candles and assorted “curative” soaps and oils are found.

For those seeking the best prices for fruits, vegetables and any dried fare – rice, beans, chilis, jamaica flowers, peanuts, and sugar – the streets surrounding the indoor market hold the most promise.

On Calle Zaragoza between Independencia and Juan Manuel one can buy fresh local fruit by the kilo at open-front stores where staff hand-fill orders one at a time. One shop in particular, situated in the middle of the block, is always packed with customers and has the best prices, hands-down. Following the taco stand rule, it’s hard to go wrong: the more customers, the more turnover, guarantees fresher product.

The Mercado Corona is open daily from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Most buyers frequent the stands around lunchtime (early afternoon). To avoid crowds and sun, arrive in the morning after produce is delivered; come with a large shopping bag and an empty stomach.

"Medications on your doorstep"

(Published April 19, 2008 in the Guadalajara Reporter)

The new pharmaceutical company Medicity understands that for a very sick patient, a trip out of bed and to the pharmacy may be an effort. Or for an elderly diabetic patient, that simply locating the correct medications, their combinations and dosages every day is a challenge. As easy as ordering a pizza by delivery, Medicity brings medications right to your doorstep.

Delivery riders use Medicity’s colorful motorbikes to bring medications to customers’ doors within 30 minutes of an order being placed by telephone.

The company’s working concept is explained in three parts: a warehouse stocked with pharmaceuticals, from aspirin to difficult-to-find chronic medications to homeopathic remedies; knowledgeable medical consultants posted at a 24-hour call center; and a flock of motorcycles dispatched from various points in the metropolitan area (Guadalajara, Zapopan, Tlaquepaque and Tonala), arriving promptly at a patient’s doorstep with medication in hand.

To have medications delivered at home, a patient simply dials 8000-8000 (a local, not 1-800, number) and speaks briefly to a sales consultant to explain his needs. Doctors are also available to clarify questions about a prescription and to verify those called in.

A trial of the service proved any doubts I had wrong. After speaking with a representative and soliciting an order, a courier dressed like a fluorescent ghostbuster arrived at my house in under a half hour driving a cute blue-hooded Medicity motocycle. The price of my order was the same as what I pay at a regular pharmacy, though 20 pesos less than normal retail value, according to my invoice. A complimentary pill box was thrown in the bag.

Delivery can also be arranged on Medicity’s website. There is no minimum purchase required, and almost all forms of payment are acceptable, including cash, credit and debit. The service is completely free and phone reps insist no tip is required-it is included in the price.

An agent at the corporate office said that Medicity’s services are unique to Guadalajara, and have been in existence for only a month. Unfortunately, for the time being there are no English-speaking doctors available.

Medicity explains that its services are aimed at various groups of people who may have difficulty purchasing medication at a pharmacy, for whatever reason, including people who cannot drive, patients with an at-home emergency, patients with chronic illnesses who wish to pre-schedule all dosages (Medicity will program deliveries), and those who are simply too sick to leave the house.

"IXE opens string of trendy banks"

(Published March 22, 2008 in the Guadalajara Reporter)

The first thought that comes to mind stepping into one of the 12 new IXE banks in Guadalajara is that you've accidentally walked into a Starbucks. And just as your eyes adjust to the warm, designer lamps you notice that there is, in fact, a café to your right…and is that Norah Jones playing overhead?

IXE Grupo Financiero has, since only October of last year, neatly established its attractive, trendy bank branches all over the city. The company plans to open a total of 20 locations, each one appearing to be pulled straight from an Ikea catalog with a striking absence of every hassle a bank trip normally entails.

IXE, a word in nahuatl that essentially means "he who practices what he preaches," has for the last 13 years been one of the front-runners in Mexico's investment sector, providing foreign exchange, asset and wealth management to corporate and private clients. IXE most recently added banking services to that list.

Roberto Manuel Bejar Orozco, director of the Ladron de Guevara branch in Guadalajara, explains that the bank grew out of their investment house (casa de bolsa) in Mexico City. Clients of IXE's services there complained of having to use separate institutions for banking and brokerage.

"It was our clients that asked for the bank services," Orozco explains. "It was very successful in D.F., and now it's growing at a national level."

Many current members of IXE bank services were top clients of other investment firms, as well as former clients of IXE employed bankers who brought them along when they joined the new company. Orozco refers to IXE's clientele as the "premier" sector.

That explains the absence of long, ticker-tape lines-the idea is to maintain few clients, exclusively of professional and corporate backgrounds, in order to provide a high quality experience. The more clients a bank has, says Orozco, the more it will lose. In fact, IXE bank barely advertises; most new clients come by word of mouth.

Unlike most banks that require a minimal sum to start an account, an IXE account opens at a hefty 20,000 pesos. This exclusivity, however, is exactly what a typical bank does not provide even to its premier customers, and is what draws big investors to the new bank. Because investment and banking services are combined, IXE is able to offer lower fees than most brokers.

Pamphlets and signs inside the bank emphasize the bank's personalized services. "Because you deserve it," says one, referring to a rewards program. "We treat every client as if he were the only one, and every client is the most important one."

This sentiment is immediately perceived: customers are genially greeted upon entering and promptly offered a beverage from the coffee bar. Three shiny Macintosh computers are available in the front window for browsing the Internet. IXE prides itself on small details, such as a toll-free phone line for clients sans robot assistance-a live voice will always answer inquiries. The bank even provides a free document courier service to clients' home or office addresses.

"The main benefit is that at IXE bank you are treated like a person, with unique and high quality service," Orozco says.

"Dogging the developers: neighborhood group presses on"

(Published March 1, 2008 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

In the center of the Zapopan’s Colonia Jardines del Sol, not far from several elementary schools and across from rows of multi-car houses on modern, palm-shaded Wisteria Lanes, is the site of the old Motorola plant and the current epicenter of a legal and environmental nightmare.

The SSC Inmobilaria group plans to build La Ciudadela, a commercial center with five luxury apartment towers, on the former factory site. The mega-project would boost the population density of the neighborhood by 20 percent. Jardines del Sol's neighborhood association, headed by German-born musician Ludger Kellner, is vehemently opposed to the project and is fighting tooth and nail to put a stop to the construction.

The battle has been going on for some time; The Guadalajara Reporter covered the story last August when Kellner’s legal status in Mexico was threatened by an anonymous complaint to the regional Immigration office, believed to be filed by someone whose interests were aligned with La Ciudadela project.

“That was scary for other foreigners who could see that even if you are legally living in the country, some financial or political interests might try to harm you with the pretense that you’re doing something illegal,” Kellner commented in a recent interview.

The complaint didn’t prosper and Kellner has continued his battle with SSC. According to Kellner, the current owners of the landsite are guilty of serious environmental violations, punishable by jail time. In a press conference last week, Kellner and other neighborhood advocates renewed their promise to prove the owners are constructing on contaminated land.

For a time, legal procedures ruled in favor of Jardines del Sol’s residents. In November of last year, Zapopan’s municipal government resolved an initial complaint the neighborhood association had filed in May; on November 23, 2007, the Ayuntamiento de Zapopan shut down the building site pending environmental evaluation.

The neighborhood’s own survey of the site’s surrounding area showed nearby residents suffered from a ten percent higher propensity of symptoms associated with industrial toxins, such as respiratory and nervous system damage.

Subsequently, the building company lost every appeal through to the Mexican Supreme Court. SSC Inmobilaria had nowhere else to go, and the site stayed closed until January 25, 2008.

On that date something happened that Kellner calls “outside any legal process.” By an inexplicable retro-appeal to the Jalisco state courts, the building company was granted legal permission to continue construction by a state magistrate.

“The legal course is the other way around,” Kellner said. “You first of all complain to the lowest jurisdiction, and then you end up in federal court, and if you lose there you have nowhere else to go. But they went exactly in reverse.

“They have continued from the 28th of January, and of course they’re going as fast as they can now because they feel we might stop them again – and we are going to stop them again.”

On February 21, in a rare public response to the neighborhood association’s accusations, the landowners said they complied with the law and found the ground within safe limits of pollutants.

Manuel de Asis Orta, vice president of SSC Inmobilaria, said that their tests found thallium (a bioaccumable heavy metal) in amounts permissible under Mexican law and that it “is false that contaminating materials exist.”

Responded Kellner: “The fact is that the authorities are not asking them to do what the law requires ... Their analysis was done in a completely incorrect way because by that time they had already taken out tons and tons of earth and thrown it into other places. That was polluted earth. They were polluting the whole city.”

Furthermore, explained Kellner, the Federal Prosecutor for Environmental Protection (Profepa) reported that samples were extracted from a depth of about one meter, while the law requires samples to be taken at zero to five centimeters as heavy metals are found on the ground’s surface.

“They took the samples at the wrong depth, and even so, they found thallium,” said Kellner. “Thallium is a very toxic heavy metal, it’s soluble in water, and even in the air; it gets though your skin and into your body, and it’s not eliminated by anything. It’s what they call a silent death.”

Since Motorola vacated the site in 1999 after a 31-year residency, the land has changed hands a number of times. When the Universidad del Valle de Mexico bought the land in 2003, they required that the previous owner, Alejandro Sanchez Garza, have the land surveyed for pollutants. The study found the land to be contaminated, the results of which were included in every subsequent deed.

“Nobody who was involved in this deal here is able to say he didn’t know about this document, because it’s cited in the deed in which the lot was sold to the German bank as a fiduciary,” Kellner said. “The funny part about this is that the two partners who have the option to purchase the land say that they never knew about this document.”

There is more that does not add up: the federal government does not have a single paper filed by Motorola or ON Semiconductors (a subsidiary of the Texas Pacific Group, which bought up the semi-conductor division of Motorola worldwide) registering their industrial waste – how much, what type, if transported by government authorized hazmat freight companies – for all activity during the 1980s and 90s. Toxic waste registration is obligatory under federal law.

Recently the Jardines del Sol neighborhood association went to federal criminal courts to file a complaint requesting the builders be held responsible for their crimes. They are also at the point of petitioning federal courts once again that the construction be stopped.

SSC Inmobilaria insists that La Ciudadela will benefit the community. They announced they will donate 1,200 square meters of land so the Federal Electricity Commission can build a substation that could provide 1,200 area homes with energy.

Kellner will continue to combat the project. “We know that this is a lengthy process that might take several years, because you cannot remedy a polluted site within weeks.”


Not included in the Reporter's edition but worth mentioning:

Kellner noted that two water bottling plants, Bonafont and Arco Iris, are not far from the contaminated landsite, as well as the Sabritas factory.

“The government favors investment. Investment goes first, because it generates employment, it generates prosperity. But this is not prosperity if you have people die on account of investment.” - Ludger Kellner

"Gabacha reporter grills Orange County's most informed Mexican"

(Published March 1, 2008 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

Gustavo Arellano isn’t just Mexican, he is “The Mexican” – the voice of the United States’ newest and largest minority who answers every question gabachos and latinos have “wanted to know about Mexicans but [were] too pendejo to ask.” Arellano smashes stereotypes one at a time in his nationally syndicated OC Weekly column called “Ask a Mexican,” and released a book last May by the same name. A Spanish version of the book will soon be released in Mexico.

Last week The Guadalajara Reporter’s MEREDITH VETO spoke to Arellano via telephone from his Orange County, California office.

MV: The questions you receive are strongly worded, often with racist undertones. You obviously take this in stride. But do you ever get discouraged by this gabacho mentality?

GA: Oh, no, I love the racist questions. They’re the best ones. I get all kinds of different questions, not just racist white people who write in to me, but from Mexicans who are racist against whites or blacks or other Mexicans. I get questions from Mexicans in Mexico wanting to know about some aspect of Mexican history or culture. No matter how much I write the column, no matter how much I try to debunk stereotypes, racism’s going to exist. So the best thing I can do is tackle it and ridicule it.

MV: I understand you received a Masters degree from UCLA in Latin American studies. How much does your historical foundation come into play when you answer questions? What is your research process like?

GA: My college education was great for a number of reasons but really the main reason was that it taught me how to do research, get a lot of information and then boil it down to the particulars you need. For instance if there’s a question about etymology, I’m going to consult etymological dictionaries, I’m going to talk to language professors, I’m going to consult history books. If somebody has a stupid question like “Why do Mexicans sell oranges on the side of freeways?” that’s not going to take a lot of research. That’s just going to be a joke off the top of my head. [The answer: “What do you want them to sell, Steinway pianos?”]

MV: You are also, and firstly, a food critic for the OC Weekly. You write a column called “This hole-in-the-wall life.” I liked what you said a few weeks ago about small Mexican restaurants in the United States, when browsing a menu: “Figure out which Spanish words have yet to become part of the Southern Californian Spanish. Order them – none will disappoint.” Would that sum up your attitude as a food critic? Is that what you look for in a good hole-in-the-wall restaurant?

GA: I used to do higher-end restaurants, but they never particularly interested me because I don’t want to spend 100 dollars on a good meal when I could have a better meal for about three bucks. When it comes to Mexican restaurants, I try to review restaurants that will feature food from a particular region nobody has ever really had. For instance, here in Orange County there are a lot of people from Jalisco. What’s a great meal from Guadalajara? Tortas ahogadas. Growing up, I never had a torta ahogada until I went to a taco truck and said, what is this? So to me, it’s foreign food as well. More importantly though, it’s great food. By doing restaurant reviews like that I’m also able to talk about the phenomenon of migration to the U.S.

MV: Would you mind answering a few of my own gabacha inquires?
GA: Sure, yeah.

MV: First, when I came to Mexico as a study abroad student, my program advisor warned female students that Mexican men are far more likely to cheat on their partners than American men. I believe she even had numbers to back it up. Does that have any truth, or was she just trying to protect us?

GA: Protect you from what? Oh please. Number one, if we’re going to play the stats game, the most comprehensive study of male cheating patterns was done by the University of Chicago, they interviewed God knows how many people, and they came to the conclusion that the fidelity stats for latinos and whites weren’t really that far apart to say this is endemic in the culture. Cheaters are cheaters all across the world. Your teacher absorbed all these stereotypes of the Latin lover, the unfaithful man, those stereotypes. I’m Mexican and I haven’t cheated on anyone in my life.

MV: Here’s another: Clowns are everywhere in Mexico. They perform on the streets, they’re featured on television and in advertisements. It strikes me as odd only because Americans tend to be fairly hostile towards clowns, even fearful of them. Any explanation?

GA: [Laughs] You know it’s funny, that’s true. I laugh because I agree with you. I personally don’t care much for clowns, but what I mean is that they neither draw fear nor happiness from me. I never understood why a lot of white people are mortified by clowns. You know, what do clowns supposedly represent? Gaiety, happiness, hilarity. Who wouldn’t want that in their lives? If Mexicans are hanging out with clowns, that just means they like happiness more than other people. They like fun stuff. Especially with the television shows, there’s a lot of goofiness, it’s really outlandish. Kind of like the Japanese. We like our humor to be as outlandish as possible.

MV: If Americans could stand to learn one thing from their Mexican neighbors, what would that be?

GA: What Americans could learn from Mexicans is that we’re not trying to take over the U.S. Up here, I think that’s always lurking in the minds of white Americans. Oh my God, these Mexicans are moving into our neighborhood, they’re trying to take over our culture, they’re trying to impregnate our women ... Aaaah! No, they’re not. It’s so nationalistic, it’s so assuming that every action [Mexicans] take against them has to be because they’re Americans. Just so you know, we don’t want to take over the United States.

Curious about Mexican culture? Write to themexican@askamexican.net with your own inquiries.

"In case of emergency, know your Spanish"

(Published February 23, 2008 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

Several months ago I had one of those life-flashing-before-my-eyes moments: as I stepped off the 622 bus on Agustin Yañez, a motorcyclist slipped into the bus lane on the right-hand side without a trace of deceleration. A split-second or millimeter difference would have put me in the hospital, or worse.

Thrown into the vertigo of an emergency room without the comfort of my mother tongue or an English-speaking doctor, I can only imagine how I would have reacted. The fact is, communication barriers exist even during scheduled visits with bilingual doctors in Mexico. That alone should be motivation enough to prepare in case of an unpleasant stomach episode on a rural roadtrip or an ill-fated scorpion bite on the Teuchitlan ruins.

I consulted Dr. Carlos Rodriguez Zarate, the medical subdirector of the San Javier Hospital in Guadalajara’s Colonia Providencia, for his advice to English-speaking patients being treated in a Spanish-speaking world. Zarate performs directorial duties in the morning and runs a private cosmetic medicine clinic in the afternoon, often treating native English-speakers.

It is comforting, first of all, that his hospital does much to accommodate bilingual patients: chief members of the nursing staff are required to take a medical English course, and the hospital employs two English speakers to handle administrative tasks, like working out medical insurance. But even so, many English-speakers are not happy to be there.

“Patients are often afraid, especially to be at a Mexican hospital,” Zarate said. “They want to explain their symptoms and they try to find people who speak English.”

Patients are likely to be anxious in the hospital regardless of the language they speak, but surely more so for those left out of the loop. The antidote to fear, he said, is preparation.

“I recommend patients carry a little card with their brief medical history, the medications they take, and any allergies they have. It’s a good idea, especially if they get to a place they don’t know.”

As a doctor, Zarate wants to know specific symptoms a patient is experiencing, when they started, and when they got better or worse. This requires a basic Spanish vocabulary related to time and health quality. There are countless Spanish-English medical dictionaries online that will help you sort out your symptoms, especially if you have a chronic condition like hypertension or diabetes you’ll need to explain to any doctor.

And if you’re experiencing mystery symptoms, Lorenza Ochoa, a second-semester medical student at the Universidad Autonoma, suggested a few helpful phrases to help the doctor divine your affliction. Remember, the doctor is a respected individual and should be referred to as usted.

Me siento mal tells the doctor you don’t feel well: add de + body part to explain where. If the pain is localized you can simply point to where it is and say, me duele aqui.

To ask the doctor what you’re suffering from specifically, say, que es lo que tengo? and, es grave? to inquire if the issue is serious. Next ask usted puede tratarlo? (can you treat it?) and if the answer is no, ask the doctor to explain what other options you have: que otras opciones hay?

Ochoa emphasized the importance of understanding the doctor’s instructions—a confused headshake will not help the doctor solve the problem. Don’t be afraid to jump in and say, puede explicarme otra vez? (can you explain it again?) or, puede explicarmelo lentamente? (can you explain it slowly?)

The doctor is one person who will never judge your bad gringo accent or your nervous stutter. If you still have trouble understanding her directions after several repetitions, try asking her to write down the directions for you: Puede escribir las instrucciones para mi?

Apart from online dictionaries there are great take-along ones for quick reference. Zarate showed me a chunky, colorful book about the size of a billfold called “Medical Spanish Made Incredibly Quick” (by Springhouse). It’s waterproof and washable allowing the user to jot notes on the pages, and separated into categories by bright plastic tabs. The book lists questions in a simple yes-or-no format for easy communication. It’s the perfect bilingual resource for travelers to Mexico or permanent residents who frequent the doctor.

Communication, said Zarate, is the key. If after a doctor’s visit you remain doubtful about any symptoms or medications prescribed, all respectable medical professionals should be available to clarify concerns by phone or email.

"A lesson in hairdo lexicon at a more than fair price"

(Published February 16, 2008 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

Inspired by last week’s Mexican film release of the gruesome Stephen Sondheim musical “Sweeny Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street,” which admittedly has more to do with cutting necks than hair, I decided to take a step to overcome a long neglected fear: a haircut.

Let me clarify: a haircut in Mexico. It has been almost four years since I have let a professional take to my locks, which started the day I stepped foot into this country as a study abroad student. Half of the fear comes from the aesthetic backdrop I witness here every day, sort of prom night ’84 meets Menudo reunion tour. Mexico has a style; it’s just not mine.

And the other half has to do with the language of beauty. I feel uncomfortable having a stranger design my head when I can’t articulate the desired style in a foreign language.

So it was time to get empowered, in that dazzling pink, post-feminist, Cosmopolitan, Carrie Bradshaw kind of way. Because if women have learned anything from Hollywood, it’s that it takes beauty and brains to win that million-dollar lawsuit.

The beauty school Instituto Sol, located on the corner of Independencia and Revolucion, offers the right price for a cut: free. They’ll also do your nails and make-up for the same rate, and any extras, like hair color, are greatly discounted. The disadvantages might overwhelm the customer used to a professional, relaxing environment. It’s one big room choked with primary colors and people—students, teachers, and clients waiting with babies and guitars.

And if your stomach turns at having a 16-year-old with one month of scissors in her hands cut your hair, it’s not the place for you. But Gaby (who was careful to point out she’ll be 17 next week), a slight, effervescent girl with a zebra-printed flat-ironed mane, gladly helped improve my vocabulary and, in fact, worked wonders on the poof that was my hair.

Let’s start with anatomy of el cabello (that’s your head of hair). El fleco (bangs) rests above la frente (the forehead). The top of your head is called la coronilla, where your crown would go if you were royalty. Depending on how your hair falls, la sutura sagital is the line that parts it down the middle. Las puntas are the ends of your hair.

Gaby told me that the most requested cut is based on the look (the same in Spanish) of Barbara Bazterrica, a popular protagonist of the telenovela “Amor en Custodia” played by Mexican actress Paola Nuñez.

There are three integral elements to that ’do. The first is a short, razor-cut fleco framing la frente. The second is shoulder-length capas (or capitas, which mean layers) onduladas (wavy, coming from onda, or wave). And the third is pieces of long hair stemming below the curls and falling flat (lacio) over the shoulders. The result looks silly and cumbersome on anyone other than the actress herself, but it’s a great vocabulary builder.

As coloring goes, rayos or rayitos will brighten up el cabello by highlighting strands of hair. Gaby explained that cortinas (literally, curtains) are an exaggerated form of lowlights—a dye job alternating between natural and colored layers on the underside.

If your hair suffers from orzuela (split ends), or is reseco (dry) and maltratado (damaged), Gaby recommends la ampolleta, a special treatment to help the mistreated cabello recover. The Instituto Sol offers la ampolleta for around 30 pesos.

My nuevo look was painstakingly but agreeably completed by the young stylist, who next asked if I wanted a moldeado and brushing—a blow-dried styling with a round brush and a puff of mousse (also the same in Spanish) the size of a grapefruit. Gaby’s teacher glowingly approved, I was relieved of the barber’s chair, and thanked Gaby for her care and insight. I paused by a mirror to tzuj and re-fluff my mousse helmet, and was set to go.

So, I survived unscathed, broke the language barrier of la belleza once and for all, and stood empowered and satisfied after the ordeal. Elle Woods would have been proud.

Avenida La Paz in February

These trees are the cure for depression. Click on an image to see the flowering "primaveras" close up.

"Guadalajara hip-hop artist keeps it clean"

(Published February 9, 2008 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

A long time ago in a land far away—the early ’90s in South Central Los Angeles—a raucous, marginalized, graffiti-painting, marijuana-smoking, break-dancing youth movement was born, enjoyed an unprecedented commercial success without having to soften its rowdy image, and soon scattered its influence down south of the border like wildfire.

It was the birth of Latin hip-hop, and its newly minted Mexican stars largely went underground, straying from their chicano counterparts’ notoriety while managing to maintain a precarious popularity to this day.

But it never really stuck in Guadalajara. There have been swells of recognition in Monterrey as well as in Mexico City, where hip-hop artists now can be found on stage at least once a week. Perhaps the more conservative Tapatios were never ready for anything more rebellious than mariachi or the brass blitzkrieg that is banda.

There is one man, at least, who remembers otherwise. Skool 77, a.k.a. Pablo Sergio, is probably the most celebrated rap artist, or “urban poet” as he calls himself, to emerge from Guadalajara. Back in the day when hip-hop started to catch on in Mexico, Skool claims he had no talent for break-dancing but loved to sing and write music, and soon fell into the scene.

“Here in Guadalajara there was a dance program on television, ‘Bailando y Ganando,’ and that’s where the rap community of those times got together,” Skool reminisces over a cappuccino. “It was on Saturday at noon, and after the show was over everyone would go to a nightclub and keep going.”

For a rapper known to don a red and black lucha libre mask onstage and who has a music video on YouTube featuring a graffiti artist spraying his image onto a wall, Skool is surprisingly baby-faced and has kind, dark eyes that don’t hold their gaze long. His rap style isn’t particularly aggressive, but it sounds like you might get some spittle thrown your way if you were to step too close.

Skool is what one might call saintly in the world of rap. He preaches purely non-violent social and political messages, and lives by the clean principles he sets. “No soy gangster, no soy hardcore,” he spouts in one song.

“The important thing is to set an example,” he contends. “At a concert I can’t tell young people to not use drugs, and then go snort cocaine backstage later. I think we are far from that.”

But how far away does that depart from the original art? What would Cypress Hill be, for example, without its psychedelic swampiness and parodied drive-by shootings, sounds wholly created under the influence of illegal substances, born from poverty and race riots?

“I think that in the beginning of hip-hop in the black community in the Bronx, they had a hard time trying to get heard,” Skool responds. “Initially it was a rebellious movement that tried to tell people, we’re different, and we’re trying to do something important. Later, I don’t know what happened to hip-hop, who bought it or who finished off its truth.”

Skool is in the midst of his own evolutionary period: last Saturday he released his final album, “Hasta Luego,” before taking a break in his career that may become permanent. On the same day the album dropped, he performed in Mexico City along with several other national groups, one from Spain, and special guest Guru, an artist originally from Boston considered to be a pioneer in the Jazz hip-hop crossover.

After 12 years of making music, Skool confides that the time has come to work on other, more personal goals, to take some time to clear his mind. The result is an admittedly less vigorous sound, a little softer around the edges. “Hasta Luego” might just be the perfect ending, though.

While an earlier album, “Sesiones Abstractas,” sounds like he might have collaborated with Beck circa “Midnight Vultures”—frenetic, electrified and funky fresh—the goodbye disc has a decidedly R&B vibe. Keyboards are focal and the bass beats groovily paced.

There’s even a bonus track called “Cancion de cuna” (“Lullaby”), which samples an acoustic rendition of “The itsy bitsy spider” over what sounds like a synthesized rubber band. The lyrics imagine a conversation between a new dad and his young child, lamenting the inevitable loss of purity: “You still don’t know about war, you still don’t know about obstacles, you still don’t know why innocent people die in prison.”

Skool isn’t leaving the Latin hip-hop scene quite yet—he’s the star of a new radio program on channel Rock Radiante 1480 AM. “Perros de reserva” (“Reservoir Dogs”) is a chance for Skool to showcase what’s new in the world of Mexican and international rap, with a little rock thrown into the mix. He’s excited about the recognition Latin hip-hop is receiving as of late, while the big-money U.S. industry appears to be in decline.

“For us it doesn’t make a good impression that people of color are talking about women, mansions, cars and champagne, because we don’t live that reality,” Skool says. “I have a reality. I have a job at a company, I see how the workers suffer with low wages, and I see all the garbage that the media feeds us.”

Skool wrote a song a few years ago called “Hip-hop in black and white.” It’s jazzy, beginning with a throwback sax riff backed by a suave piano. The song alludes to simpler times in Mexico’s history: “black and white like a Cantiflas or Santo movie…like photos of Zapata or of Villa.” Colors, for Skool, are red like a bull’s blood or yellow like sensationalist journalism; they separate us into political affiliations and social castes.

Whether or not the “good old days” really were so great, hip-hop in black and white is exactly what Skool’s career has been—a desire to return to the romanticism, the idealism that started long ago with some fed-up young renegades in L.A.

"Streaming keeps your ears flooded with the sounds of Spanish"

(Published February 9, 2008 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

To be certain, many expatriates living in Mexico find themselves in an English-speaking bubble.

The trip to the corner store might initiate a bit of Spanish small talk in the vein of “Hi how are you?” or “Do you have tortillas today?” But once greetings are mastered, the learning process often plateaus.

A professor once suggested an invaluable tactic to keep my ears flooded with the sounds of the Spanish language, no books on tape necessary: radio streaming. “Streaming” is a pleasant sounding e-term that consists of a constant, live flow of multimedia from a provider to an end-user (you).

In my experience most radio stations’ websites now provide a link to begin streaming instantly. Open your music application (I use iTunes), select either broadband or dial-up on the station’s page according to your connection, and that’s about it—just like switching on your radio, the program will begin to stream and you’ll catch it in media res.

And here is why streaming will become your favorite Spanish tutor: hundreds of university radio stations from all over Latin America are just a few clicks away.

Try, to start, our very own Radio Universidad U de G, which can also be heard on the local dial at 104.3 FM. The shows are broadcast from the 12th floor of the university administration building on Juarez and Enrique Diaz de Leon.

If you listen in the morning you’ll probably catch a few news and interview programs. El Expresso, for example, broadcasts Monday through Friday at 10 a.m.; it’s like an intelligent version of The View. Put the show on while you tidy up the house or exercise – the trick, I’ve found, is to not treat the listening as an active training exercise, but to let the conversations flow and calibrate your ears.

Don’t focus on every word you don’t recognize. But realize that because the interviewers and their subjects are being recorded for an audience, they are speaking clearly and articulately, and might be easier to understand than your chatty neighbor. Choosing shows from different countries is also a great way to adjust to regional dialects.

During an interview note the pauses in speech, the ums, ahs, ays; bueno, pues, este … These intermediates indicate thought progression within a dialogue, words whose equivalences in English are difficult to translate accurately and are mostly learned by hearing within a context.

The greatest benefit of the international broadcasts, unlike pre-taped Spanish lessons, is that the information is current and you might just learn a thing or two in the process. Try to follow the U.S. primary elections on the Colombia National University’s station, for instance. On a recent show, professor Maria Teresa Haya of the Externado University deemed Hillary Clinton “hard-working, but remote to poor Americans,” and discussed Barack Obama’s “racial triumph.”

What’s more, some stations provide a sidebar listing a mixed bag of recently recorded broadcasts so that live streaming is not necessary – simply select a theme based on your curiosity at the moment. On the University of Puerto Rico’s radio webpage, for example, you might choose from a film critique of The Great Debaters, a lecture on alternative medicine, or hear a mental health expert discuss suicide prevention. On Colombia’s webpage look under “Franjas” and select from economic debates, rock music on vinyl, or (although it might defeat the purpose), a French lesson.

A secondary benefit of this medium is the remarkable variety of music the university stations program. Most have a jazz hour, plenty of regional sounds, throwback pop (I turned on Chile’s station yesterday and was assaulted by “What about LOVE!” by Heart), and usually more avant-garde picks. “Nouvelle Extravagance” on the U de G’s station, an afternoon music variety show, plays folk, rock, hip-hop, indie, and world.

Radio streaming opens the door to a free and accessible world of information in Spanish. Take advantage of the possibilities. Explore the medium, and make listening a habit.

Check out each university’s webpage for program listings.

"Federal aid allows baker to make headway"

(Published February 2, 2008 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

As a certain diva might say, that carrot cake was like buttah. It achieved a moistness poised between that of a fruit and pound cake (the secret was in those pineapple slivers), and the whipped icing, spread about as thick as the cake itself, would’ve made Martha Stewart swoon.

My birthday indulgence was the result of more than just a good recipe. Esther Lopez Cabral, the owner of a little bakery on the corner of Belgica and Fermin Riestra (a block away from the Super Gigante on Niños Heroes and Tolsa shopping center), is a visionary of confections and a true self-starter.

Esther’s story starts about 18 years ago, when her twin daughters were toddling two-year-olds and she was a traveling social worker. While the girls appeared normal, the doting mother noticed a discrepancy in their mental development. A single mom, she took the risky decision to leave her job and take care of the children full-time while selling odds and ends out of her home, like clothing and make-up, for income.

The bakery started as an experiment: a small table, little cakes and breads and sacks of cookies. Recognizing her daughters’ handicap, Esther enrolled the girls in CCATI, an affordable training school where they learned to bake; later they helped their mother at home in the kitchen.

“I was thinking about the future of my daughters, knowing that they would need to learn something manual,” Esther reflected.

And then, around four years ago, Esther saw an advertisement on a public television channel for a federal work assistance program. Shortly thereafter she applied for help from the “Productive Investment Project,” which doesn’t give her cash, but provides all tools and equipment she needs to run her business.

“I don’t need money to eat,” she explained, “but I can’t go out and buy an oven. Everything I earn I need for basic costs of living.”

The program furnished Esther with a refrigerator, two worktables, an industrial oven, and a scale to kick off her new venture. This year she’ll receive a mixer, a blender, and a microwave oven.

These days business is improving. She still sets her confections on tables peeking out of the iron-barred double doors of her kitchen, the cookies prettily tied with colored ribbons, the cakes laced and powdered. It’s always a good sign when customers start ordering “the usual,” and that divine carrot cake reportedly tops the list.

Esther would like cookies to become her specialty. They’re sold at 100 pesos per kilo and in flavors like walnut, cinnamon and pumpkin seed. Cakes range from 80 to 180 pesos depending on size, and can be made to order with a day’s notice. She also offers gelatins and pies.

Esther is a committed advocate for government assistance: “There are many government programs that help people who want to work,” she tells me, and insists that one needn’t be destitute or unemployed to participate – only willing and persistent. For example, the state program Emprende provides low-interest loans from 5,000 to 30,000 pesos for small business start-ups.

Esther’s days are satisfyingly non-stop. When not running deliveries or coaching the twins in the kitchen, she attends CCATI to expand her own culinary education. She has thrived, not just survived, for the health of her family, and it shows in every bite.

La Pasteleria Fina Lolisara is open Monday through Friday, 1-8 p.m. Calle Belgica 700. Tel. (33) 3812-9480.

"American Chamber keeps business booming"

(Published December 7, 2007 in The Guadalajara Reporter)

Story by : MEREDITH VETO

Guadalajara is fully integrated in the international business community, and its chapter of the American Chamber of Commerce is on top of the game.

Under the leadership of its respected founder Adolfo Horn, who died earlier this year, the chamber can claim responsibility in years past for attracting the likes of Kodak, IBM and Motorola to the city. The former tourism (now hospitality) committee has contributed such ideas to the local economy as the double occupancy tax for hotels, the Tequila Express tourist train, and the renovation of historic haciendas into “boutique hotels.”

The chamber’s fiscal committee in particular, whose meetings see the highest attendance by corporate members, has lobbied against double taxation for U.S. companies as a result of recent fiscal reform.

“We seek to support better conditions for businesses here in Guadalajara, with our eight active committees,” said Claudia Grossi, director of the Guadalajara branch. Grossi is an economist who has been involved in investment promotion in the state of Jalisco, within the academic realm and in connection with the chamber, for more than a decade.

The Guadalajara division boasts close to 500 corporate members. Its committees establish a forum for initiatives contributed directly by local business leaders.

The most recent business development committee, for instance, was held on November 27 and chaired by Eduardo Lafaire of Parque Industrial Guadalajara. The topic of the meeting was “Information Security in Technology Networks,” led by Salvador Ledesma of Internet Solutions de Mexico.

Ledesma showed a Power Point presentation, highlighting daunting figures of loss to fraud and viruses the Mexican economy suffered this year. He paused often to solicit dialogue from attendees.

“The culture of security right now is very narrow,” explained Ledesma. “The reality is that it’s important to us, but we want a quick and simple solution. It’s very important now to have a vision of security; we have to investigate our options.”

Rafael Farga, of Soporte Industrial, lamented this attitude. “It’s like a home alarm system – in what moment do people buy it? After they’ve been robbed.”

When asked how his company works to ensure its clients’ security, Benjamin Garza of BBVA Bancomer explained that they inform their customers how to avoid fraud, and provide them guarantees and alerts.

Ledesma emphasized the importance of maintaining a secure technological environment by preserving a system of checks and balances within each corporate entity so that the same department that designs the system does not control it.

A loss of security, he insisted, not only has an economic and competitive disadvantage, but will damage a company’s reputation.

While the Chamber’s Business Development Committee supports local economic efforts, the International Commerce Committee explores opportunities for Mexico in the global market.

On November 16, Alejando Sahagún of Jaltrade led a presentation on the Chinese market.

“China is here to stay, and we owe it respect,” said Sahagún, who sees a world of opportunity in Chinese trade and does not want Mexico to miss out. Not only should Mexico develop more business overseas, but should model economic decisions based on China’s approach.

Diversification of the Chinese market, for example, exempted the country from a global recession in 2001. According to Sahagún, Mexico would benefit from the same strategy.

Attendee Yuri Mariel, of AssaAbloy (Tessa), a hardware company, asked about how foreign companies “dumping” products into the market at extremely low prices might affect the local market. For example, a customer might choose a Chinese-made light fixture over the Mexican, albeit of lower quality, because it costs 20 pesos versus 100.

In response, Sahagún discussed quotas and new “anti-dumping” regulations Mexico should investigate to maintain fair prices and higher product quality.

“Don’t leave this only to the government,” implored Sahagún to the business leaders. “The American Chamber has a direct connection to the government and this is the place to go about discussing it.

“But this is our responsibility, we can create the links. Sell over there, open businesses – there is opportunity.”

"Exchange students thank hosts with a taste of home"

(Published November 30, 2007 in the Guadalajara Reporter)

Photograph by : Meredith Veto

Laura Lomeli and Saron Hardin-Smith enjoy what’s left of two Thanksgiving turkeys.

Story by : MEREDITH VETO

It was a sight for sore eyes: a dazzling spread of mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, cranberry sauce, cabbage and holishkes, pumpkin pie… and turkey. Two, in fact—razed to the bone in the delicious tradition that brings U.S. families together every year to celebrate gratitude for the harvest and one another.


The chefs in question were 14 students from Guilford College in Greensboro, North Carolina who study at the Universidad de Guadalajara’s Centro de Estudios Para Extranjeros. The students spend a semester living in Mexican homes, sharing the table each day with their surrogate families. And as their time draws to a close, what better way to express gratitude for their love and support than to offer a traditional U.S. feast.


The meal was hosted in the home of Roberto Gomez, director of the Intercolonias program in Lomas de Oblatos. More than 20 years ago, Guilford College established a relationship with the Mexican social justice organization, which is based on the teachings of Paulo Freire.


Approximately 30 colonias in Guadalajara are involved in the effort to improve infrastructure, build credit unions, and manage a youth sports league, among other community ties. Guilford College students maintain an ongoing dialogue with members, discussing current issues and cultural challenges.


But conversation at the Thanksgiving dinner strayed far from political discourse.


The house was so packed that people poured out the open front door, plates of food in hand; kids darted between legs and chucked tazos (Pogs) on the floor. Friends laughed and joked, lamented their imminent departures, moaned and patted their full bellies with satisfied smiles.


As the night wore on and the tequila ran out, folks drifted outside into the comfortable chill, and departed with extended hugs and good wishes. It felt like home and richly so, in the way that good food and company usually does. No tradition was lacking; in fact, a new one was added:


A dancing chicken. The holiday coincided with the birthday of a partygoer, whose friends hired a man in a chicken suit with a boombox to join the fun.


We’ll call it Mexico’s version of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.

La Noche Fea

Guadalajara, Jalisco – November 24, 2007, just before midnight. A friend was detained by the police (for reasons that remain unclear) and escorted in a patrol car to the dark outskirts of the city, where he was restrained and beaten brutally by five officers. The next day he recovered in the hospital and reported the incident to the Juzgado Municipal’s internal affairs office. A lawyer advised him that actions may be taken against the officers if he can recognize them in a line-up, but he will not recover damages.

My phone rings at 12:30 a.m., rousing me from a half-dream featuring Erin Brockovich, still playing on the television I forgot to switch off. “…So before you come back here with another lame ass offer, I want you to think real hard about what your spine is worth, Mr. Walker. Or what you might expect someone to pay you for your uterus, Ms. Sanchez.” A friend is speaking to me from within the walls of a jail cell. He is crying and talking a fast, garbled Spanglish. They beat me, Meri, they took me fuera de la cuidad and beat me. Help me, go to the bank and bring mil pesos. Go to the Juzgado Municipal en La Calzada Independencia [he calls to someone outside the cell; a male voice yells a number], La Calzada Independencia 840. 840, Meri. Hurry. They beat me so bad.

I pull on jeans discarded two hours earlier on the floor, throw a sweatshirt over my blouse, step into boots and walk into the night, cursing my luck. You owe me one, cabrón. I make a pit stop at the Banamex up the street, withdraw 1500 pesos, and flag a taxi on Niños Heroes. The cab rides east and passes prostitutes lazing on corners next to hardware shops, doors locked and windows barred. Up Independencia to the eight-hundred block, dropped on the stairs of the central station.

The station’s lobby is empty and white, lit by fluorescents. A tired woman at a corner desk opens the registry and locates his name. She explains the fine will be 238 pesos. A man accepts my cash and handwrites a receipt, passing me a stamped copy of the citation. I cross the lobby and wait on a cold perforated metal bench. Time passes strangely, my eyelids droop. PUM pum PUM pum PUM pum PUM pum. A government drone down the sex offenders’ wing stamps documents, echoing like a dull heartbeat down the hall; a young woman shuffles in the same direction, weighed down by two bags of packaged copy paper.

He walks through the glass doors, hunched over and wearing nothing but a pair of corduroy trousers, and shivers like a baby whipped out of a bathtub. The tongues of his shoes, stripped of their laces, stick up and show his gray socks beneath. The corners of both his eyes are purple and framed by dark knots—there is a quarter-sized raspberry on his forehead still bleeding freshly, a blackened bump on the bridge of his nose, long scratches on his back, and circular welts on his wrists as if imprinted by shackles.

He collapses and sobs. I remove my sweatshirt and try to fit it over his head; he fails to notice my effort and grips his neck, rocking back and forth in a fit of shock. Eventually forced into a cab, he lingers before the door closes and cries at the rifle-wielding guard who keeps post on the steps, Hijos de puta! Pinches cabrones policia, que no hice nada! His tears flow and he repeats the same phrases like a broken record, he tells me he loves me and thank you I don’t know what I would’ve done… aaauuwwww, I hurt so bad…they beat me, Meri, they beat me bad.

As I squat to remove his shoes and socks he stands as stiff as a board, welts tightening his joints, and I gently lift his arms enough to slide off the sweatshirt. He still shakes uncontrollably. I feed him two naproxen tablets and put him in a hot shower, light a pot of water for yerba buena tea and set the table with two cups and a plate of pan dulce.

I was at a concert, and a cop took me and my gringo friends outside. He thought we were smoking pot. He let the pinche gringos go but when I told him I wasn’t doing anything and asked about my rights, he put me in la patrulla and took me away. He let me go at a 7 Eleven so I went in and got a coffee; when I went out I saw more patrullas and heard them ask each other, ‘Hey, is that the same guy?’ and that they were going to fuck me up. This time the cops handcuffed me and put me in the back of the car.

How many cops were there?

Five. They drove me in la patrulla out of the city, down la Carretera Chapala, and to a dark side road. I was handcuffed and pushed to my knees, and they started beating me. They hit me in the side of the head in my jaw and I blacked out a few times; I can’t remember it all. They stole my money, around 800 pesos—my whole week’s pay, it went to them!—and my watch and iPod. I looked into one cop’s face and asked him why doesn’t he take off his badge and gun, remove my handcuffs and fight me like a man.

You were cited for insulting federal authorities. That’s what the report says.

How dare they beat me! I worked the whole week, for them! And I didn’t do anything! …I wasn’t scared, but I felt completely impotent.

He doesn’t touch the tea or pan dulce, and breaks into tears several times again. I play Manu Chao to calm him, but the lyrics stir him and he sings like his heart is breaking: “Todo es mentira en este mundo / Todo es mentira la verdad…”

Human Rights Watch, World Report 2007, Mexico:

“Among Mexico’s most serious human rights problems are those affecting its criminal justice system. Persons under arrest or imprisonment face torture and ill-treatment, and law enforcement officials often neglect to investigate and prosecute those responsible for human rights violations.”

http://hrw.org/englishwr2k7/docs/2007/01/11/mexico14885.htm