Easy as one, two, Ruta number 3...

Excursions...

Besides my unplanned excursion through the abandoned outskirts of Cuernavaca (continue reading for more juicy details...) the only "real" excursion has been my trip to Xochicalco. Nahuatl for “in the (place of the) house of Flowers,” Xochicalco was founded in about 650 – 700 AD and it rose to prominence as the Teotihuacán empire fell. The site has of a number of step-pyramid temples, palaces, three ballcourts and their bath/ spa called the temascal. I spent the day walking around the site with a friend, reading what little literature they had about the history of this once important commercial and religious fortress. The part I enjoyed the most was walking through the  ballcourts where they would play games, host other sporting events, and settle political debates. The ball game lasted from hours to days and ended with the winning captain being sacrificed to the "gods" by the captain of the losing team. After walking around for a few hours and developing a nice golden red sunburn, we headed back to the center of cuernavaca to have lunch and una chela bien fria :)

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                                                                Internship

     My first week of interning at CRIC (el Centro de Rehabilitación Infantil de Cuernavaca)- a children's rehab center- flew by. I have been told that the month of July is the slowest month of the year because the majority of the kids are on summer vacation. The one occupational therapist that works there, Jenny, sees between 3- 10 patients per day and the physical therapists are a little more busy with their average of 13 patients per day. I have been hanging out with Jenny if she has patients by helping with exercises, setting up therapy instruments, and cleaning up after their session ends. If there are no patients, I spend my time entertaining the 3 other OT students with how to say swear words in English. When I have had enough with my english teaching lesson for the day, I head over to PT to help LouLou or Jorge, the two physical therpists, with their patients. LouLou is an overweight, very jolly woman who loves speaking spanish with me, helping me learn therapy terms, and letting me get my hands on the patients. Her PT students also get a kick out of asking me about the US, what it is like in Wisconsin, what we usually eat, family traditions, my boyfriend, and anything else they can get me to talk about. Jorge's side of the clinic is much more low key and relaxing. When I was first introduced to him, they told me that he was mostly blind, but one of the best PTs around Cuernavaca. I have learned a lot about him and am so glad that I get to work with him- he is truely inspiring. 

     

I have not yet taken pictures of CRIC, but am planning on it this next week because I need to start putting together a powerpoint project in order to receive credit. I'll post pictures sometime next week. 

CRIC is located some 30 minutes on bus from my school, which brings me my next story I promised you earlier: the story of the lost Ruta (or should I say the lost Marie since the bus wasn't the one that was actually lost).

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... Ruta numbero 3...

If anything, getting lost here in Cuernavaa has put my language skills to the test and has made me more "independent" (and desperate for help) than I could have imagined. Looking back on this experience, I smile. One: because I got to ride in a really sweet bus, two: I got a 55 cent tour of the entire city of Cuernavaca, three: I got a lot of exercise (probably about 35 tortillas worth of calories), and four: I made it back alive.

Taking the public bus system, or the "Ruta" is much more economical than taking a Taxi every day from school to CRIC and back home. I asked around at school and at home for the most efficient route and thought I had everything figured out. Little did I know, I was in store for a very exciting WEEK of getting lost...

Day 1: It was Monday and my first day at CRIC. One of the internship program assistants came with me to my interview to make sure everything went smoothly. And it did. We took a taxi, got there in about 15 minutes, talked with the director, the assistant left, I worked with Jenny for a few hours, I took a taxi home because I didn't know the bus schedule yet, and got home around 3:15- just in time for lunch.

Day 2: My internship director found me and gave me a map of which Ruta to take, where to catch the bus, and a rough estimate on where to get off. She was not as helpful with the directions as I hoped, so I asked some of my mexican friends for better directions. I was a little nervous to take the rickity city bus from school to CRIC, but I walked the 4 blocks to the bus stop, hopped on Ruta 12,  confirmed with the bus driver that were were going to pass though "Las Palmas" (the neighborhood where CRIC is) and we were on our way. He let me know when to get off and I was on my way to CRIC. Easy... or so I though.

Bus stops in Mexico are nearly non-existent. Even if there is a "bus- stop" it doesn't necessarily mean the bus is going to stop there. If you need to get on the bus, you stand on the edge of the sidewalk, wait for the correct number bus, and wave your hands like a mad man so that they will pull over for you.

After working my shift at CRIC, I was ready to take the Ruta back home. I walked up to the main road where I had taken the Ruta to CRIC and waited for Ruta 3 to come my way. It never came. I decided to walk down the road a ways to see if I could catch the bus on a different road. I didn't catch another bus.

I walked in the direction I though my house was in, hoping to catch a Taxi along the way. I couldn't find a taxi. After a good 45 minutes of wondering around the lovely streets of Mexico, I spotted the back of the familiar bell tower of the Cathedral that was located in the Zocalo, or the downtown, of Cuernavaca. I continued walking toward the bell tower, found a taxi, and paid way too much for a taxi ride back home (by this time I didn't care that he was ripping me off). I was determined to take the Ruta home the next day. I was going to find it.

Day 3: No problems with getting to CRIC. I had it down. I was feeling good. Today was the day I was going to take the bus back to my house and prove to myself that I could do it- I could beat the Ruta.

I had the right Ruta number- all I had to do was find it. I asked Jenny where the best place is to find the buses. She told me, and I found it. I found Ruta 3, waved it down, and asked if it went past my road. It did. I was feeling good. I was the first one on the bus, and sat in the very front seat, thinking that he would help me out when we got close to my stop. We picked up more and more people along the way, filling up all the seats. People got on and off as they pleased. I had no idea where we were until we passed the Zocalo. I knew I was heading in the right direction.

After another 15 minutes, I thought we were probably getting close to where I should be getting off. The bus driver said nothing, and we continued driving. I didn't recognize anything. We kept going, and the bus started to get emptier and I was beginning to get concerned. After driving for another good 20 minutes, there were only a few people left. We kept driving uphill, dropped more people off and he stopped the bus on the very top of the hill/ mountain. I was the last one on the bus. Awesome. I asked him where we were, where I should have gotten off, and if it was too far to walk. My stop was one of the first ones after passing the Zocalo, and it was way to far to walk. His bus didn't go any farther, but he told me to take Ruta 6 and it would take me back to where I needed to go.

I stood there by his parked bus, waiting for Ruta 6 to come pick me up. After standing there looking extremely lost for what seemed like forever, he called for me and told me busses don't come up that far and that I would need to walk down the mountain/ hill/ abandoned neighborhood/ creepy street and catch the bus there. I started walking down the hill, not a person, car, Ruta or sign of life anywhere. I was on the verge of tears. I didn't know where I was, couldn't find a taxi or even a security guard/ police man to call a taxi for me. Not good, but there was nothing to do but to keep walking and hope I would run unto something. After another good 30 minutes of walking down this abandoned road, I heard a beautiful noise come from behind me.

 God must have been listening to me because he sent just what I needed-  sketchy looking Ruta 6. I practically threw my sweaty self into the middle of the road waving them down like a crazy woman. He pulled over and the side door flew open. I literally laughed out loud at what I saw and what I was about to do. The back of the tiny white van was packed with mexicans sitting on the floor holding baskets of freshly baked bread, breast feeding their babies, knitting, and anything else you could imagine. At this point I was desperate.

photo courtesy of google

 I hopped on Ruta 6, praying that it would take me where I needed to go. After a good 10 of getting stared at by every single person on the bus- all of them asking themselves who is this blonde haired white girl with her pink backpack and why is she on my bus?- we pulled over and the people piled out. I was the last one left again and the bus driver told me his route ended there. I asked if he knew  how I could get home and he told me we were on the same road my house was on. I didn't believe him- nothing looked familiar and we were still pretty much on the top of some hill. Although I am not the best with directions, I did know that my house was a the very bottom of a hill. This must have been it. I thanked him for my help and hopped out of the van. I started walking down the hill, running down the hill, getting closer and closer to the bottom, still not recognizing a thing, when all of a sudden, I saw the backyard of my house. I thought it was a mirage. I ran the rest of the way to my house, threw myself through the doors, and met Coco in the kitchen.

I made it. Coco calmed me down with a glass of freshly made, ice cold agua de fresas. After I caught my breath, I explained to her my 3 hour long journey through the abandoned streets of Cuernavaca. 

She had waited to eat lunch with me- so cute :) After lunch, we spent another 20 minutes going through the route of the bus and where exactly to get off. 2 maps later, I felt good about it.

Day 4: Made it to CRIC, no problem. Got on Ruta 3 after CRIC and got off at the right stop. Skipped the rest of the way home and couldn't stop smiling. So happy :)

Day 5: Got it down flat. What a week.

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                                                                T.G.I.F

Friday night, time to celebrate.

I had made it through the week alive and it was also the last night that 2 of my best friends would be here. 

We did each other's hair, make up, fit in some coloring, and chocolate chip cookies and were ready to go. 

First stop was a salsa club called El Solar. It was a lot of fun. I practiced my salsa dancing and learned  Cumbia. We had a few drinks and decided to meet up with some other friends at another bar. We met up with them,  left to go to another club, stayed there for a while. Once we had enough of the electronica music and smell of sweat mixed with mold and alcohol, we went to another bar. Much better. Fresh air and a live band that was playing rock music. We were enjoying ourselves until a man approached one of the guys we were with and almost started a fight. We left the bar before anything else happened and decided to call it a night.

Saturday: I took it easy and hung out with Coco. Walked to the laundromat, picked up some apples from the market, watched a movie and went to bed early. I needed that.

Sunday: Had scrambled eggs with chorizo, toast, black beans, coffee, fruit, sweet bread, and juice. I am sitting outside next to the pool, enjoying the sun, listening to Coco's Beatles CD, and writing my blog. Just talked with Stacy and Aunt Kathy on skype, it was great to hear from them. 22 days until Mom and Lena come and 31 days until I'm back in the states. Time is flying by here! I'm already more that half way done. 

Hope I didn't drag my week/story out too much.

Miss you all!! 

I'm sure I'll have more stories for you next week, it seems like I always do.