Mexico [Sinking] City

I realized during what was my fourth trip to Mexico since moving to Texas that I had not written even a word regarding my visits and adventures. That is a shame, really, as there is really quite a bit that I should have shared about my travels to Monterrey, Playa del Carmen, and Akumal. This post, however, is about my most recent trip to Mexico City, DF.

Ciudad De Mexico [Distrito Federal]

After being forced to take vacation for the entire week of Thanksgiving, I made a somewhat quick and spontaneous decision to travel to Mexico City to see what it was about. The enticing airfare from Austin to DF made the decision even easier, as AeroMexico was offering a promotional rate for their new direct flight. It actually cost less for me to fly internationally to Mexico for the week that to fly back home to Ohio. And, to seal the deal, my friend, Gaby, who I had met in Barcelona last year, is a native-born Chilango from Mexico City, and had invited me to visit.

The People

Next step was to get some friends involved. Of course I would be visiting Gaby, but it took a bit of convincing to get my Mexico travel buddy, Alex, to come along. Eventually, he, as well as his friend, Chris, agreed to come. All of us had studied in Spain and at least have some basic levels of Spanish, with (according to them) mine being the best.

Day 1 [The Arrival]

My eyes open. I am on a plane. I look out of the window for a sense of orientation, and there lies the vast expanse of seemingly infinite housing that is Mexico City. My jaw dropped- partially out of awe, and partially to equalize the pressure in my ears. We certainly didn’t have to descend as much as I am accustomed to, as Mexico City’s altitude is nearly 7350ft. After landing a bit late, the passengers were forced to sit on the plane for what felt like twenty five minutes as we waited for a bus to pick us up. Really, it felt quite unorganized and unprofessional. There is no reason they shouldn’t have expected us and had a bus there ready to go. I’m going to give them slack, though, solely because the airport was under heavy construction and the clearly new terminal was vacant of any docked airplanes. Certainly they were running low on resources until the new terminal was ready.

After going through immigration and grabbing my backpack, I waited in line to pass through customs. Over the crowd I saw a smiling face accompanied by a waving hand. Gaby. It was so good to see her smile again, and after customs was sure that I was not trafficking any illegal materials, I ran out and gave her a hug. The smell of the airport reminded me of Venezuela, the site of Gaby reminded me of Spain, and yet I was in a new place all together.

Gaby was kind enough to offer to pick me up at the airport and take her to her family’s home in northern Mexico City. I had been in cars in Mexico before. Nothing, though, had prepared me for the chaos that is driving in Mexico City. Luckily, I was not the one doing it, or I certainly would have crashed Gaby’s brand-new Renault Clio within minutes of starting it. I was amazed at how simply unorganized the driving was, yet how, beneath the surface, it all worked out and people got to their destinations anyways. It is simply a different mindset than what I am accustomed to, and even what I had seen in Venezuela, Europe, and the rest of Mexico.

We arrived at her home, where I was greeted by her mother and shown to their guest room which was in a separate building in the back of their house.

It reminded me of the house that Emily had lived in in Venezuela, which had a completely separate house containing the guest bedroom, bathroom, etc. I left my bags and talked for a bit with my hosts, after which we left to grab dinner at a vegetarian-friendly restaurant back towards downtown, called Buena Tierra [good land]. It just so happens that this was exactly the same restaurant chain that Natalie, my cousin, had taken me to when I first arrived to Playa del Carmen. Apparently this is the best place to take vegetarians on their first day in Mexico.

We then went out to a bar/club called SkyBar, which was quite fun. They played some of the good old dance songs that she and I had danced to in Barcelona, and it brought back some fun memories. My Spanish, by this point, was nearly back up to full speed as if I had never stopped speaking it for over a year.

A ride home, a jump in the cold shower water to get the smoke smell off, and a bit of arranging of my luggage, I was asleep.

Day 2 [Exploration and Reunion]

Home to home through home

Perhaps I was a bit hard on Rochester in my last post. Overall, it really wasn’t too bad of a place to re-visit. It is amazing how much not being able to find something at a late hour can affect my judgment of a place.

On Wednesday, after a long day of recruiting at the job fair and running somewhat randomly into Favi and Nate, neither of whom I knew were still in Rochester (and were actually just there for the fair), I finally got to go do a few anticipated things.

First, Ben, one of the guys I was recruiting with from AMD, and I went over to the CE department to hand over a bunch of leftover t-shirts to the office for them to hand out to students. On our way into the new building, we actually bumped into Dr. Savakis, the CS department head. He quickly noticed our AMD shirts that we were wearing, and invited us in so that he could give us o tour us the new extension.

I must say, I wish that I had graduated High School in 2006 rather than college. I could have certainly enjoyed many of the new facilities that they have put in for new students. The CE department has moved from the Building 17 extension in all of its depressing darkness and into a much more friendly environment with plenty of natural light, space, collaboration areas, and fresh new laboratories. There is no way that Ben and I could not be jealous. RIT is certainly moving in the right direction, at least with the buildings.

As we were saying farewell to Dr. Savakis, one of the Intel recruiters walked up to the CE office. No, there was not bloodshed, and we actually had an interesting discussion. Dr. Savakis listened intently (or out of complete boredom, who knows) to our subtle digs at each other while maintaining professionalism. I thought the guy from Intel looked really familiar, and finally I realized that he was one of the guys who had interviewed me at Intel in Hudson, MA. He didn’t seem to remember me, though.

Ben and I headed out, and we stopped for a much-needed sub at Dibella’s. I had been longing for that gigantic NY-style brick-of-cheese on a bagel-crusted roll with delicious peppers and mustards for well over a year. Who would have thought that a simple sandwich could be so incredibly satisfying?

Later, I met up with Bill, a friend I had co-op’d with at Harris. It was good to see him again, and, apparently he had just proposed to his girlfriend the day prior. Luckily, I was there to celebrate with him a bit at Cibon, another much-missed restaurant of Rochester. We later headed over to Spot Coffee to meet up with some of my friends from La Hora de Español- Favi, Joe, and Jerry.

It was good to see them all again, though apparently the three of them had fallen out of touch pretty much since Favi and I went to Spain. We had a great time just chatting at the coffee shop (again, another place in Rochester which I dearly miss, and is in fact open late) and decided to go head over to Java’s down the street a bit later. I do really miss that group, and it was good to get all of us back together again. They even mentioned starting La Hora back up again, which would be great to have happen.

Six hours later, I was on a plane heading from home to home. With a connection through home. With a small amount of sleep and having just gotten accustomed to driving around Rochester again, it began to feel familiar and present. If I hadn’t met my friends, though, Rochester would have certainly felt void and foreign, and I like a ghost drifting along through a lost dream. But it was just enough exposure and intensity to remind me of how my life was there not too long ago.

Drifting in and out of sleep on the plane, I arrived in Cleveland. Home. Again. Where am I? Home? But I was just home? But neither of those are home now, right? I wander around the airport and grab a bagel, and remember many of the trips that I have taken from that Continental terminal. But my family was not there at the airport to receive me. I would never pass through the security gates and into the industrial Cleveland air, but would instead groggily board another plane to head home. To Austin, this time.

On the flight back, I woke up several times almost sick with confusion and disorientation of where I was and where I was going, and what parts were dream and what was real. Finally, after a clear bird’s-eye view of the downtown skyline and AMD, I was grounded. The plane landed. I was home. Really this time. I think.

Return to Rochester

I only get the urge to write in this when I travel. I wonder why that is.

Today, I am back in Rochester, NY. Home of my alma-mater. This time, instead of being a resident, I am a visitor. Instead of being a student, I am a full-time employed adult. Instead of seeking employment at the career fair, I am recruiting for AMD.

Of course I wanted to come back. There are many things I have greatly, dearly missed about this city. Mostly, it is my friends. As it turns out, though, nearly all but four of them have left this little city to move on with their lives. In another year, two more friends, I expect, will have deserted this place. My connections with Rochester have become lesser and lesser, and it has merely been a year since I have graduated. What will it be like in five years?

It will feel even smaller. Not only did I graduate from RIT, but I feel like I have graduated from Rochester as well. Returning here is like walking back into your elementary school as a high school senior. It looks and feels almost comically small. Suffocatingly small. It is quiet, and quaint, and there is so little to do here at 11pm on a Tuesday that it is actually confusing for me. Barcelona and Austin have shown me what a real city can offer (I’m not even sure Austin is a real city yet) and Rochester just isn’t matching up.

Here, I can’t even find a place to eat past 10pm on a weeknight. I went to Pita Pit, near downtown. My other options: Taco Bell, Denny’s, Jay’s (dysentery) Diner, and Tim Horton’s. Exquisite. You would think, maybe, that a town with two pretty large universities in it would just pack these locations with hungry students. Wrong. Pita Pit had a whopping four patrons in it. So much for late-night cravings. Come on, students, you shouldn’t even be having to study for midterms yet! Get off campus!

The roads of Rochester were just empty. I had them to myself, and driving around felt eerie, and as Derek once said about Burton, “It feels like by just being awake past 10 you are committing a tragic sin”. Yet, during my drive I did see about 6 cop cars. I’m not sure why, especially in the nicer neighborhoods I was driving in. Perhaps they should be back in the ghetto where I used to live, and my roommate’s car stereo was stolen.

Tomorrow is another day, and I hope to meet up with some of the people that are still here. I’ve also been craving a Dibella’s sub for a long time, and to go for a stroll down Park Ave once again. With luck, I’ll be bringing back some nice bottles of NY wines in my somewhat empty suitcase.

It’s a lot of small things that I miss about this place. But even compounded together, I’m beginning to question if those small things really amount to much. This, perhaps, is the most surprising thing I will encounter during this trip.

It was like I’ve always lived in this mess.

The title is not meant to sound negative. In a way, its what Austin really is. This entire city is a contradiction in my mind, and that seems to be the way I operate. On contradictions. Oh, and, by the way, I am living in Austin, TX now. Should it not have been for my friend, Sumiko, beginning her Castellano blog, I probably wouldn’t have thought to update this.

Contradictions of Austin:

• Texas, but liberal
• America, but I hear more Spanish here than living in Spain
• Texas, but lots of tech jobs
• Bigger (everything’s bigger in Texas), yet somehow smaller and dense
• Sidewalk cafes… but on 5-lane roads.
• A music scene… but not country
• An art scene… but not country bumpkin
• Texas, but without the heavy accent
• Bush came from this town, yet it seems everybody here hates him
• Strip malls everywhere, but small business is valued highly
• A lively downtown scene, nobody lives downtown
• Football is bigger here than any other city I’ve lived in, yet there’s no NFL team
• Freaking hot in the summer, but green trees and foliage everywhere
• Good job market, high incomes, but low cost of living and no income tax
• Hardly visible on a map, yet one of my favorite places on Earth

“It was like I’ve always lived in this mess.” — A quote from L’Auberge Espagnole. The chaos and contradictions of this place are what make me feel completely at home. Nothing seems to make sense, and yet, for exactly that reason, it does.

Stereotypes

Sometimes I find it amazing how little Texans know about how their state is generally viewed by the North. I’d say it gets about as much of a bad rep as, say, West Virginia, Kentucky, and Kansas. Oh, and if you are from any of those states and don’t think you are the source of many jokes… you are. I’m not out to offend anybody, after all I am from Ohio and I get my fair share of being made fun of. Stereotypes of cornfields and farmland as far as the eye can see – though true for western Ohio is hardly at all like the northeast. The same goes for Texas. What applies to Dallas, Houston, Amarillo, Lubbock, and the boonies and desert does not apply to Austin. Yet, for many of us northerns, the sound of “Texas” makes us cringe. I’m not quite sure why we react that way, but we do.

On the plus side, that same cringe effect is what keeps Austin from blowing up with a heavy northern population and losing its special Austin-ness. Austinites, cherish the fact that you are a blue oasis in a sea of red desert. That desert can be very scary and impenetrable by many, keeping your city population at a manageable size.

My Case

So why did I move here? Simple – AMD flew my down for a job interview. I got to see the city, and quickly became less afraid of the possibility of moving here. I saw the contradictions immediately, and that is what brought my immediate attraction. I accepted the job sometime last year, probably in November, and now I am here after a chaotic end at RIT, study abroad in Spain, temporary move back to Ohio, and temporary job as a wedding photographer.

The Company

AMD is an amazing company to work for. It is growing so quickly, that at times I wonder if it’s going to be able to handle itself. I’m pretty confident, though, as our upper management is quite amazing in my opinion, and I’m certain they know what they are doing. I love having a job for a company that is constantly in business news, on geek websites like digg.com and slashdot.org. We are doing amazing things at AMD, and I doubt that the company will ever stop impressing me.

The People

With a good company comes good people. I look up to so many people that I work with on a regular basis. Whether they be managers or co-workers or co-ops. The simple quality of people that end up here is outstanding. It is also one of the most diverse environments I’ve ever been in. My mentor is Mexican. My upper-manager is Korean. We have so many Asians, Indians, South Americans, and Europeans working for us … not just globally, but right here in Austin. This diversity is something that I never really got working at Harris or ProQuest. Anybody who knows me even slightly well knows how much I value different cultures.

The Apartment

Though this may not be L’Auberge Espagnole, it is still rather ideal. I’m living here with my friend from RIT, Ed. He’s a pretty chill guy, unless he’s hungry or anxious to leave somewhere. Then it’s like trying to control a 5 year old who wants to go to the ice-cream store. He’s quite aware of this, and now I just take it as quite amusing, where initially it was rather annoying. We each have our own quirks, and I’m sure it took him some time (and continues to) get used to me.

Overall, we work things out pretty well. The apartment is furnished and decorated quite nicely, and we are both very happy with how it turned out. Much of our furniture came from this guy named Joe who we found on Craigslist. He wholesales furniture from a little warehouse he has up north, but all of it is name-brand stuff at nearly half of the cost of anywhere else. For the small amount of money we spent, our apartment looks almost like a Crate & Barrel catalog showroom. I’m sure the folks at C&B would highly disagree. That’s fine, they can continue to overcharge for their particleboard yuppie furniture while I get it for cheap.

The apartment brings a perfect blend of city-living and country feeling. The entrance to our apartment is on one of the busiest and coolest streets in Austin. Our apartment, however, feels like a tree house. We are at ground-level on the backside, so we have no stairs to climb, but as the apartment is on a slope, the back side with all of the windows is up 1 level, and is completely surrounded by trees which come right up to the balcony and windows. From the dining room, living room, and kitchen, all you can see are trees. At night, I hear crickets and frogs – not sirens, gunshots, and subwoofers. Downtown is a 25 minute walk away.

The Neighborhood

I live on South Congress avenue. I basically picked the neighborhood never having seen it by describing the things I liked about Park Ave in Rochester to some rental agents down here. Sidewalk cafe’s, cool and diverse restaurants, some art stores and cool shopping, young professionals, etc. I was told by 3 sources “oh then you’re looking for SoCo”. How could you turn down a name like SoCo, anyways? It sounds like SoHo but it is also the name of a Louisiana Whiskey.

Why is it called South Congress Ave? When you drive north on it, you are driving right into the State Capitol Building. It is quite a view, actually. You see all of the shops, followed by the S. Congress bridge over Town Lake (where 1.5 million bats call home over the summer), and the downtown skyscrapers forming two walls on the right and left of the avenue. Dead-centered at the end of the corridor is the massive Capitol building in all of its Everything’s-Bigger-In-Texas glory. That is my view on my drive home from work every day. That is why I live in SoCo.

There is so much more I can write about, but that is going to have to come with time. One of my problems with blog-writing is that I get so backed up with things to write about, that I feel I have to tackle everything in the queue first before I can write about the thing I’m thinking of at the moment. The sad part of it is, once I do an update like this, I’ll probably never write about, say, my extended trip to Paris, or my experience doing wedding photography for my friends KC and Andie. You’re not going to hear about Austin City Limits, either. If I don’t write about it the day or week of, its simply not going to happen ever. I wish this could be more complete, but that’s just not going to happen. So it goes.

(Untitled)

I sit in front of the browser window

the tab is marked

(Untitled)

the blank white page

the blinking cursor in the address bar

begs me to go somewhere

pleads me to enter destination

to find something, a solution

to how I am feeling

to making things right

and permanent

but there is no such website

there is no such answer

even in this vast set of knowledge

where I often try to hide 

Jo estic català

Today was rough. In fact, it is less like one day, not even two, but more like three.

I slept two hours before going to the beach, and felt rather exhausted when I did wake. Kaitlin and I went anyways, and it was ok, but the weather could have been better.

Then the coming back and the going away dinner and the despedidas to everybody I met in the program. Surprisingly, I wasn’t too sad about it all. Yet.

Later, I went to meet some of my other friends at a bar, then a club because the bar closed before I even got to it. On my walk, I heard some guys behind me talking, basically wondering where I was from. One seemed pretty confident that I was from here. Enough to actually ask me, “Eres Catalán?”. I replied yes, to see if I could go with it, but somehow they could tell right away by my pronunciation of “sí”. Oh well, it was worth a try.

Later, after some hard goodbyes and feeling like my whole life here is slowly being pulled away like a thread from my belly button until it is all gone and I am completely empty, ready to be refilled when the plane touches down in Cleveland, I realized something – I passed as Catalán. The last few weeks, people have been asking me the time, how the food is, directions once and a while, which side of the train to take. People think I fit in, people assume I know the language. I am not the blatant American, I no longer scream “speak English to this tourist”. I am, for the moment, Catalán. Jo estic català.

I have triumphed.

My mission, complete.

I can now go home rest assured that I have, without a doubt, reached my cultural experience here, and not just remained a long-term tourist. This was real. The friendships permanent, though soon-to-be long distant. Barcelona stays, but I will not, and that is just something that this place and I are just going to have to figure out and deal with.

Twenty-four hours to go. I want to be sedated. These words have never meant so much to me.