Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Back in Guanajuato and taking steps to settle in

Yesterday was a day for accomplishing things. We went through the "Chopper", a little local penny-saver type thing, looking for apartments, and writing down the info about the ones that sound possible (the Chopper is not ours, it belongs to the Bagel Cafe, so we had to copy out useful info). There were not a lot in the center. We might revisit it to consider an area that was suggested later...get to that momentarily.

We then went up the street just a few steps to a language school that some American professors we met said was good. Peter enrolled to start next Monday. To begin with, for the first week or two, he will take 4 hours of class a day: 2 hours of grammar, 1 hours of vocab, and then one hour where they use what they learned in vocab to actually do it (like, they might learn how to order food, then they go to a cafe or restaurant and do it). Later, the "doing" hour will change into conversation. I might go to the orientation with him and take the exam to see, but for now I didn't sign up. They also have cooking classes in the afternoons at 3, and one can take it 3 times a week, I think, so I might try that out.

From there, we bought a cell phone. Not something we'll be using to call home or receive calls from home on, because that would wipe out our minutes in a flash, but for calling prospective landlords, it seems pretty useful.

Next, to the stylist who does our bagel ladies' hair. One of them in particular, Bene, has great hair. Before telling us where to go, Bene said, "Well, my stylist is a transsexual, or, transvestite." I said, "Yeah, that's fine." (Lesbians referring us to a transgender stylist: feels like home.) So we went and found the spot, waited a few minutes for it to reopen post-siesta time at 5, and in we went. Peter got a good haircut for about $12, and I might go for highlights (that's more like $35, but still not bad). If Bene had not told me, I never would have guessed that the stylist was a man (really small hands!). Well, until the end, when we introduced ourselves and I asked her name and she said, simply, "Juan."

Then, off to this store near there that we loved before and still do. Also has a little cafe in the back where we sat for coffee. I chatted with one of the owners about coffee and the music that was playing (it was great -- he didn't sell the disk because it hasn't come to Gto yet, but he wrote down the name for me -- a guy he compared to Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan in that their words are the best part, and their voices aren't so strong). I liked him for being a great intellectual snob.

Everywhere we went, we told the person (well, not at the cell phone office, but the stylist and the cafe and the language school), that we are looking for a place to live. The director of the school wrote down our preferences and I think he often helps students find houses (he is the one who suggested we consider this neighborhood a little outside the center, where it's quieter), so he seems the most likely to come through. The cafe guy gave me the info of a woman (American or Canadian) who rents places, but the card he gave me seemed pretty fancy.

I emailed with Liz, half the couple who paid our B&B in Patzcuaro because she had said she would be back in Gto this week (George was staying in Oregon). We will likely have lunch or dinner with her next week. She also said they have a big Thanksgiving at their house and invited us. I offered to bring cranberry sauce, which will give me a project while Peter starts his classes next week (those of you who knew me in college might remember my cranberry sauce adventures in Spain -- cranberries are a new world fruit and don't really exist in Spain. I hope that I will be able to find them here, and I think I will. Anyone have a recipe for turning dried cranberries into sauce, though?).

Today, to call around to places (oh, I do get so nervous about phone calls in Spanish!) we found listed in the chopper. We have tickets to the Juarez Theater tonight (which is supposed to be beautiful inside) for something that we think is a trapeze act or circus -- we really are not sure but we liked the posters :)

2 comments:

  1. Cranberry story reminds me of needing to find cranberry juice in Minsk, Belarus last August. Try asking what the correct word for cranberry is when you don't speak the language! I ultimately found cranberry nectar by cross-referencing two juice bottles that had a similar-looking fruit on them. Ah, memories. You could make some sort of Mexican cranberry sauce using other fruits if you can't find it...

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  2. The Spain story was that it was our program's big Thanksgiving celebration, and Leigh-Ellen and i signed up for Cranberry sauce. I looked up "cranberry" in the dictionary, and it said "arandanos". We went to the big supermarket that carried peanut butter and found frozen "arandanos". We made a sauce with them, but it came out deep purple. Also, they were little and not as tart, so the sauce was sweeter and didn't gel as well either. It still tasted great. Now, I think it might have been huckleberries or wild blueberries or something like that. It turned out the wife of the director would stock up on canned cranberry sauce when she was in the states, but was not there during the planning. We served both at the dinner and, while most took the canned version, ours was tastier (though it turned your turkey blue).

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