Where to go? Oct 9th?-16?

So,

I do not know If I have mentioned it before, BUT I was going to have an exam in Nov.

After a month in Oaxaca and a day of walking around in a panicked-daze, where I sat on the corner of a highway trying to think for half of it.

But I ended up here. Where is here?

Once again, a bit of explaining to do.. and now I have a certain learn-to-sing tune from Sound Of Music in my head.

On Saturday night I met up with the last time with my Mexican friend, as I was leaving the next day. We got Esquites.. this hot corn and various other ingreds soup... which I am now in love with. I could do with some right now....

I was under the impression that I had to pay about 270 dollars US to take an international spanish test. Last sunday, when I was taking a bus out that night (but I didn´t know where) I went to a internet cafe (well, hotel since in was Sunday... this is a Catholic country) I learned that A- I was supposed to sign up in person in on of the offices in the main city (there were only for das of registration left, and I was heading to one of two small towns). B - The exam is actually 4 hours long... WHHAATTT?

Originally i was urked because i had been in Oaxaca for a month, was finally leaving when I realised I couldçve done this easily weeks ago but now I had to stay another day.

Then I was urked when the 4 hours came back to me.. I wouldn´t say my Spanish can even last me 4 hours.. that is 5 different exams... talking, listening, writing, word recognisation and one other. And, this exam is only taken on 2 days in the entire year. So I was going to take it on

Nov 19th. In little over a month.

Although I wanted to have the ``I can do anything!` mentality, I knew this was impossible...

if I managed to study and learn enough I knew the stress of it all would eat me alive.

So that is why I was sitting on a corner.

Then I couldn´t work something out... the girls who have returned from Spain couldn´t remember jack, so I KNOW they couldn´t have taken this exam.

I went on the internet to try and get more info from my school website. Not a big success.

I emailed my Exchange man who I report to when I am away from school. A big stressed email,

to which the reply was

^Yep, you have to do it. Hope this clears things yup* or something as equally frustrating.

THe good thing was, it was now 6;15pm, I was on the internet for 15 mins and he happened to be online. If he hadn`t been.. I would still be in Oaxaca, significantly poorer and more stressed.

But he added an attachment.. alas, this attachment told me there was another way.

That way is to be tested, in any language, at a school in Adelaide. I think that the DELE, the international spanish exam, was actually higher than the level of the rest... if you go to a Eurocentre, I know the option was lower, because they compare with the DELE on the site.

ANYWAYS,

This exam costs $125 Aus.. so I could fail it and take it again and I am still paying less.
This way too, I can go to the school for a few prep lessons... I don´t feel like I have any help or

proper prep methods here.

Anyways, this option had not be presented to me (see above line email from man), but I am glad within those 15 minutes (while writing a panicked email to my parents.. as you do), it occured to me that the school exam CAN NOTbe the DELE exam. Just to check I emailed back adelaide and he rang the school to check.

I got the reply ``You can take the exam any day in the year....^^

THANK HEAVENS. IT was now 7pm, and I within seconds I decided that I was going to follow me irish lads to San Cristobal on a 9pm bus (a town ABOVE THE CLOUDS... donçt read about those temps in the Lonely PLanet... actually, you would. But I guess I donçt associate Mexico with cold).

I sent an email saying ``not coming ... wap, wap, wap``then just before logging off.. ``Cancel that, see you soon!```

I tossed the money to the attendent and ran home. Then I got my money and ran (full of adrenilin) to town... I was tossing up whether to run for a ticket or run to pack and then just get a ticket when i got there... but after full buses in PV, I wasn´t about to do that.

So I ran to town, bought my ticket (in the end the bus wasnçt half full...) and ran home to pack. This was about 7:30 now and I had furiously gathered my things and showered (something I have come a bit lazy at in oaxaca), and at about 8:10 Iwas standing on the main road flagging a taxi.. I could`ve taken longer if I hadn`t taken the ticket ladies `Get there 30 mins early` advice seriously. I don´t know why I did-- I guess I am waiting for the day when being early in Mexico is required..

Side story: I ran to the theatre last night to catch a 7pm show of Hairspray (YESSSS), only to hgave the curtain raise at 7:45. I could´ve had dinner and showered team!

I was at the station by 8:26 and all happy and excited, but not really believing that this exam that have thought I was taking for the past 2 months, was not necessary.

I managed to sleep on this overnight bus a few times.. I was the only one awake when the driver turned on the lights and announced there was a 30 min break in the middle of no where... and 3.30am!

On Saturday me and the Irish lads had run into a `British girl, who I started talking to because we wanted to know how much she paid for a painting (these guys are around selling them ALL The time... this is the first time I witnessed a`purchasè.

She wasn`t liking Oaxaca... she had just come on the overnight bus from San Cristobal in Chiapas where she said something about it being `the most GLORious place in the world`` and how we MUST stay at this hostel where there is a wizard who lives in the roof and a guitar for singalongs and HUMMINGbirds in the yard. Now it seems clear that she was a mix of over-enthusiastic and crazy.. but that didn´t get us at the time.

Only when i showed up to the hostel where Roisin and Padraic were woken by my voice as I walked in did it hit me. The man pointed me to the room (which was metres away from him... without a proper roof, and the first thing Roisin said was `We are NOT staying here.`
They already had, for a night, which was not the initial plan, but they showed up at the beautiful colonial house they saw on HostelWorld to find in barred up with wood, graffitied and smelling of urine. That was all outside... because there didn´t seem to be a way in.

That´s okay, they thought, we can go to the MARVellous place the Brit spoke so fondly of.

So this is where I fould them now, in a freezing, loud room half painted red and half purple, with a wonky U2 poster on the wall. They couldn´t sleep because two girls were singing french songs outside their room for half the night.

The kitchen was an old, filth-pit but inside we found ``the wizard``. An 60-something american man with huge white hair and a great beard (suprised?) with two Mexican amigos sitting with him, laughing at everything he said.

One he cracked was when I told him I was `studying at the moment` and he said ``Really, coz I thought you were standing there`` and CRACKED up with the same force as a Gary Williams Sneeze before I had even processed his funny.

He told us his South/Central american tales (he seems to have been travelling around, living at hostels for years, but has never worked in any of these countries...) and when we told him about the British girl he was very enthusiastic ``Ohhh yaaaa, It´s great when you hear about little gems. This is the best hostel I have ever stayed at in the whole world``--- this is when

wee realised that everyone has a different definition of what a good hostel is... this one cost $60.00 pesos.. about $6... most in Mex are $120.

When we saw him later on in TOwn he was in a huge Mexican jersey that they sell at the markets, had cut off, tight jean shorts only going mid-thigh, with sandals made from Rope.

He was luging his guitar with him and carrying a snack.

``What have you been up to?`` I asked. His reply ``Just eating some bread and cheese``.

Awkward pause. ``Is it good?``

``YAAA you should get some.. (then gave vauge directions to the bread shop and cheese shop).. Is it two blocks? it might be three....`` his directions were wrong. we didn´t want his amazing snack, but we did stumble across the the shop. Awkward pause.

``Were you busking??``

Awkward pause.

``NOOO, (capitals showing aggression) I don´t play for money. I just play to be free``- I don´t know how we weren´t laughing, but I was a mixture of happy and disapointed that my brother Guy wasn´t there.. it was good he wasn´t coz he would be in stitches... but at the same time I wish he had met him (who we know only as the wizard).

Lets start with MIERCOLES

Miercoles = Wednesday.

That was the day I met my loves Roisin and Paudraich. Now I am following them around the country.

I don´t know how we didn´t meet each other earlier, but somehow the 10 new students who started last week managed to hide from my Aus friend Kate and I.

After school, in the computer lab, they rescued my precious Bio Oil that I had left there.

That night was the cafe social and we, the 2 aussies and a British lady wanted chips.

Not Mezcal, chips. They were on the menu and we were all telling great chip stories as we are all from lands of chips.

Mexicans did not understand this attachment. And although normally they cut the potatoes and fry them up and add 4 sauces right in front of your eyes in the street carts... this crappy bar (did I mention the fact that the waiter got away with overcharging my friend $10, and another time they told us we have to move to a tiny table with 4 minature chairs (there were 6 of us) because

there were other people who needed the couches... (so what if we just had juices and chips!).

Anyways, the chips came out stone cold. Straight away the bolsy (is that a word) Brit was all ´´Áhhh excussssemmmmeeee - Theeesseee areee coold. FRIO¨. Not impressed with the lack of effort. The irritated waiter took them away, only to return with the same, still cold chips a minute later. This time everyone was appauled, ´frios´were used and spanish was attempted. He took them away and returned with them 20 minutes later. Cold, but the bowl was semi-warm.. I was laughing SO hard... guess this is a got-to-be-there moment.

But the Mexican-Australian said to the waiter in Spanish ¨She´s from England, she´s from Australia and she´s from NZ:.. these are people who know their chips¨ dead seriously.

The waiter was all ¨not my fault¨(which, if I have learnt ONE thing at my hospitality school it´s that that is what you DON´T say) but brought Mezcal shots. Shame we were hungry and wanted chips. The manager came over and asked him to get fresh chips and he replied, ¨It´s okay, I got them Mezcal¨. That being the answer to a lot in here.

Thursday we headed back to try our luck at soccer again. It was much the same macho-fight without-rules as the first time but my team gained the star player and the new Irish lad this time so it was pretty even. I didn´t even run back and forth this time. I just stood there yawning.

Friday was the Salsa class, which for the first time in 4 weeks I wasn´t the loan pupil at. The irish lads were suprised why no one else was going, to which I jokingly said ¨Coz the Germans don´t know how to have fun¨ to, which the German didn´t appreciate... turns out Germans don´t know how to take a joke either.

The salsa class was led by a classic gay man called Nay who say ¨Nay, not gay¨ but I knew better. My gay-dar is unbeatable. Paudraic, the irish lad, had me in stictches originally with his complete unability to get the steps. He was all over the place, making it harder than it was. It was even funnier becuase all the dance teachers here (well, the 4 I have had.. that is 100%) show you something once and then presume you´ve got it for the rest of your life.

Anyways, he convinced us to visit a salsa club that evening, which we thought would be casual.

Boy.... no.

We got their and Paudraic and Roisin got up straight away.. .this 60ish man asked me so I got up, figuring I had to do it once, saying ¨Yo no sabes¨(I don´t know) 100 times and he didn´t seem to mind. Everyone asks different people to dance for each song, and I realised after that he must ask people he knows can´t salsa because he definately can´t either!

I think his wife and friends are all pros so he pounces on foreigners. With only the basic steps I can go okay with a strong leader (aka one of the teachers) but with him... he was making moves up and flinging me into other people! I couldn´t stop feeling a mixture of how awkwardly funny and how embarrassing it was at the same time. One of the skills of salsa is keeping to a small space, which the other couples were forced to do with me spinning all over the floor.

But there were AHMAZING dancers. One girl I noticed straight away, who was flying all over the place (SO fast) with such grace, while able to genuinely smile and look pretty at the same time (something, I learnt that night, which is VERY hard to do... no other female in the whole place pulled it off)... she danced every song with all every man in the club.. she always outshone them... even the teachers (including Nay).

She was what I consider to be the picture perfect Latina. She had a black halter top on that showed her belly, with tight jeans and black boots.. her goldenish curls were originally up but she bust them out later... they were long of course, typical Latina. Me and Paudraic reckon she never stops salsa dancing and discussed at length her dancing on the way to work, spinning to grab the newspaper at the shop before strutting on to catch her change... we worked out her life.

I tried to take some photos but she was moving so fast she is literally a blur!

Saturday was to be my last and boy was it exciting. I ended up wandering around parts of the hood I had never seen before... not exactly tourist territory as i discovered.

A man saw me sizing up the streets and helpfully gave me directions in very fast Spanish to where 2 of the streets lead... wanting to take a different road entirely, but wanting to look like I appreciated his advice, I headed down one of them.

I know he didn´t mention ¨Prostitutas¨on this street but that is what I found.

There were quite a few, it was like with ants... you see one and then notice the whole trail.... I think the first one I saw was about 17... I knew something was up when I saw her leaning on a VW van.. but not really looking like she was waiting for anyone or anything.

And then I saw the shoes. The HUGE platform-heals that were about a foot high. They were clear plastic...all class. The other ants, bar one, all had the exact same.
These were the ugliest shoes I have seen in my life, and this is someone who owned light blue slip on platforms and saved up piano practises for my silver pulps. But like every near-21 year old I am blaming my fashions of past on Scary, Sporty, Posh, Baby and especially Ginger.

I wanted to give them money, not for their services obviously, but so they would get off the street and take off the drag makeup, but unfortunately I cannot afford to make up what they would miss from a days work. There must have been about 12 of them... they were only on the one block, which was only about 6 buildings long (small buildings here... they are all about the same size.. coz it´s still all colonial). The girls had their own posts, one even had permanently attached an umbrella to the fence. I noticed that the men walking down the street (not customers) were not even making eye contact... which I found respectful for a culture that wolfwhistles and makes smarky comments at anyone over 14...