There really are few things as wonderful and disappointing as a breakfast consisting of only meat. I’ve found my schedule to be full to the point where it’s better for me to order food and eat while I’m walking rather than trying to cook for myself. At the end of the week I had half a pound of bacon, a chorizo, and a small steak that needed to be cooked before they went bad. I had some yogurt to balance it out, but I’m not sure if that counts.
I finally got my schedule worked out to where I work thirty-five hours, weekdays only, with a half day on Friday. On top of that, I have four hours of martial arts, two hours of piano lessons, four hours of Spanish lessons, two college classes, and practicing my old forms for kung fu. I keep looking at what I should cut out, but there is nothing I’m willing to lose except sleep. At least I can relax on the weekends, sort of. Now that I have more time I’m looking to go back to San Diego for a weekend in June, and I’m off to D.F. with the Diplomat for a nerdfest. Worth the expense and time, but I have to make sure I keep ahead of my school work, just in case.
I have another set of opposing classes. Sociology of the family is fun and interesting, everything I like to study combined with a good teacher and simple papers and exams. World Geography is one of the most nightmarishly boring classes I’ve ever taken. It’s like someone said, “Hey, let’s take world history, take out all of the interesting parts like the stories, leave in all the boring numbers, and add in a lot of the dullest descriptions of trees and mountains possible.” It’s a super smart idea. I think I’d rather take a small shot of arsenic every week for eight weeks. I love studying other places and people, but they sucked all the joy out of the learning process.
Other than that it’s been a good couple of weeks. I’ve had some free time to go out socializing, with some interesting results. There was a good night of tea, conversation, and mosquitos with the Brits. That’s one of the things I love in life, good conversation with a small group. I spent a night drinking with the teachers, with good food, but it’s always too erratic. It’s hard to get into anything interesting in the chaos of noise and alcohol.
I was out with the Diplomat when a man dressed as a clown rode past on top of a car covered with balloons. He started cursing in Spanish like the clown had offended him. “Hijo de puta, that’s my student!” I started laughing as he told me the story. His student had asked for an extension on a paper because his mother was sick, a reasonable excuse. Then, he passed by his teacher dressed as a clown, shouting and waving. The Diplomat ranted about it for a good twenty minutes, and I kept laughing and antagonizing him further. It even made up for the green tea frappe that was reminiscent of a seven-up slurpee.
Other than that, things are changing a bit here. There was a protest last Wednesday on Chapultepec, but I missed it once again. I’m not sure that’s a bad thing though, nothing happened, but the government here doesn’t like foreigners in its protests. I don’t know that I would have gone even if I knew about it before hand.
There was a fire today off Periferico Sur, just burning in a field next to the road. No one stopped, or even seemed to notice. There was a tanker truck that arrived just as I was passing by, and I’m guessing more to come. It didn’t look like it was set on purpose, it’s been hot here recently. They have the same wildfires that we always had in California, but never as severe.
It’s hard to say what will happen. The government is requesting soldiers to help fight the narcos, and one of my friends was telling me that they were moving through the city searching for people from the cartels. Apparently they started in Zapopan and just kept moving east. That’s the thing about Mexico, you can never be sure what is going to happen. Sometimes a small thing can start the protests, and sometimes the obvious things are completely overlooked. I sometimes wonder if it will start tomorrow, or if it never will. The hardest thing is knowing that it probably won’t be for the best.