Vanilla, chicken, and earthworm stew (with a deathly dessert)

I have to say that things have, on the whole, been better. Yesterday Azalia and I were escorted by two other (and much friendlier) UVI students to visit with a couple vainilleros in a different region. We were late to meet them there and I’m afraid I made a grave error when talking to one of the professors; I was still a bit peeved by the attitude of the students from the other day, and when she asked how I would want to collaborate with UVI and I said “Well, I think I just want to work alone” she got all huffy and I could just see the steam coming off of her and her eyes were burning into me. Ooops. She lectured me about my attitude, which I though was ironic, but she didn’t know how the students had acted. I tried to defend myself with no luck, and she walked away with a begrudging goodbye. I regret acting from a lower place than I should have, but honestly, they just make me feel unwelcome and uncomfortable and I’d rather work alone! There is a more complicated under story that I’m unaware of, which includes relations between people in the school, their views of the world, their experiences with north Americans, and the fact that what I’m doing here will affect their community and not mine. It’s all very messy and sensitive and complicated stuff which makes my ignorance and awkwardness stand out even more than my white skin. I have to remember that I’m here not only representing myself, but the University of Texas and the United States. That’s a heavy load to carry!
Nonetheless, I had a lovely day traveling with the other two students- Reynaldo and Gustavo- and after a long couple of taxi rides on bumpy dirt roads in the searing heat, we arrived at out first destination. Don Cristobal, a vanilla farmer, was my first interview ever, and I think it went all right. They seemed to be expecting more from me, but honestly, I don’t have much to say and a limited vocabulary and mental power to transmit messages from English to Spanish and then produce them into sounds that can be understood. I learned some new things though- irrigation is a must for vanilla growing, as they suck up more water than juniper trees and will die without being thoroughly soaked, and that robbers sometime come, kill the farmer, and take the vanilla. I think it happened more in the past, but geeze! I was reminded both of the value of vanilla and of how strange life is.
After a brief show-around we left for the next farm and were led by this little boy down a dozen of long, hot dirt paths to the milpa, or mixed crop fields, to meet Don Santiago Francisco, and awesome guy and farmer. He grows organic vanilla, naranja (oranges), maiz, tomates, bananas, mangoes, frijoles, palmilla (used both to make ink for the American dollar and to wrap tamales- ironic, no?), lemons and café, plus probably a whole lot of other stuff I couldn’t recognize or remember. He is currently writing a book in Totonac (in which he is fluent) maintains an awesome vermiculture system (worm compost), bakes his own bread, and has a multitude of chickens, turkeys, 2 goats, and a dog. Needless to say he gets a lot of help from his wife and 10 children; while we were visiting his wife kindly invited us to supper consisting of mole with chicken (which I DID eat and have to say that despite my guilt, it was delicious) and hand made tortillas made with their home-grown corn. It was all pretty amazing stuff, and I admire their lifestyle. They were so kind and generous; I wish I could have given them something in thanks! But that’s just the thing; here when someone shows you hospitality they don’t want pay or anything and it’s considered offensive. But then when the gringos come and everyone gives them stuff and they leave, many seem to think that they come just to use and exploit the kindness of the people. What to do, what to do?
When saying goodbye to the family I made yet another mistake; do NOT kiss men in the country on the cheek when greeting or saying goodbye! It is an acceptable practice in among women and both sexes in the cities, but definitely not with men in the county. As I went to kiss Don Santiago on the cheek he turned his head abruptly to dodge it, but luckily I had to catch the bus in a hurry and was saved from the awkwardness of it all. I think they just laughed at me for not knowing the customs or how to act, so once again I’m just a silly, ignorant American. Quite humbling.

Azalia left on a night bus bound for Xalapa, so now I’m on my own! Wish me luck!

P.S. I been exploring my fears and the thought has ocurred to me that all my fears have their origins in the fear of death (fear of rejection= you won´t be able to survive on your own, etc). Fears are so complex and multifaceted, they´re quite interesting to explore, but if you´re not careful you can get lost in the maze they create in your mind. Please post thoughts below!

¡Saludos!

Allison