cliché.

September 16, 2012

My head is cheia (full) of endless thoughts/questions. The writing bug has bit me again and I feel like there are so many things to share, so I apologize if this doesn’t make much sense.

I feel like my life has become full/representative of all those lame clichés (sayings) you always hear growing up. You know those things you hear your parents say all the time, like “you learn from your mistakes,” & other sorts of nonsensical bullshit we try to tune out?

Well. Ahaha. These little sayings are alive in my life now more than ever, not because I keep hearing them, but because I am finally starting to see so many of them actualize in my personal life/experience as a PCV.

You guys know what I’m talking about, right? Those —-  “experience is the best teacher?” .. “love is blind,” …etc..?

This experience is still new and fresh, but I feel myself learning and growing a lot already. & not always in a really deep and meaningful level (although I hope this follows too!), but at the most basic level- like being forced to cook from scratch.

I am constantly having these little flashbacks to my childhood in which I remember looking at my Mom in awe. As a child (and even to this day!), I always wondered where she learned to do everything she knew how to do- like cooking or laundry and such. When I was a kid, I remember I use to acompanhar my mom to the laundry room and watch her throw in the laundry and operate the machine and such and…. Man, this seemed like …soooo hard to me! Granted I was like five or six, so everything I didn’t know how to do seemed so complicated.

After growing up, I eventually learned how to do my own laundry and figured out that there wasn’t much to it (well, at least in the states!). It’s funny, I think to myself, “ha! I remember when I use to think doing laundry was so hard! Psssh!”

My mother has always been this representative of the perfect mother to me. She was (and continues to be) this ‘fierce-single-fearless-immigrant/ ideal-Mexican-mother’ archetype that knows how to make all your favorite foods, makes your costumes for school projects, goes to all your soccer games, and will even fight the Ref when he gets out of line & gives my brother a bullshit penalty card (okkkayyyy!? Don’t mess with Mexican moms, they… will… CUT… YOU.*snap followed by a neck roll *ahahahahah!)

But the point is- I’ve always admired my mother so much. I knew I was lucky to have such a nurturing and loving woman as my mother- I don’t know if I was good at showing it, or not… but I knew. I knew I was lucky growing up (& continue to be). I admire her so much, that there are times when I’ve thought, “man,… I feel sorry for my kids! My Mom makes all this bomb ass food, and what can I make? Mac & Cheese? Noodles? Cereal?” ahahahah. I’ve questioned the idea of whether I’ll be a good mother or not…  I don’t have those mad cooking skills or sewing skills (but I’m working on it!)… I’ve questioned whether I can be AS GOOD as mother to my kids, as my mom was to me.

& the feminist in me knows that a woman/mother is not defined by how well she can cook or whether she can make a sick costume from scratch. I know that. But, I look back at the things my Mom did for me (and continues to do)- and I want to be able to do these things for my kids one day. I want them to brag to their friends about how good I can cook or how handy I can be.„,

So, fast forward 24 years later. Wendita is in Mozambique. Washing her clothes by hand, fetching water from the well, taking bucket baths and trying to figure out this cooking fiasco. Turns out that while I am lucky to be in a ‘city’- and I do have a supermarket walking distance from me- guess what? They don’t sell marinara sauce like they do in the states. What the heck am I going to do without my staple spaghetti dinners?! It’s the plate I make best.

 But I lie. They actually do sell tomato sauce- BUT it’s fucking expensive and it’s a tiny ass jar that would not chegar (be enough) for more than one meal.

So, I’m in this new situation-

Yea, the foods are much fresher, and not processed as much, but there isn’t as much variety as we’re use to back in the states,… so if you want something- you kinda have to make it from scratch. Did I mention that I don’t have a microwave? & that I was not much of a cook before coming here? Ahah. And even if I did have a microwave, there isn’t an entire aisle of microwavable foods available to me. The small quantity that is available- is pretty expensive. Not to mention- I am living off a very modest stipend. To give you an idea about this adjustment- My monthly stipend is about what I use to make in one weekend serving tables. Yea. Maybe a little less… Ahaha.

But I’m not complaining too much… sure, my month’s salary is what I use to make in 2 nights serving tables, but I am much happier and content now than I ever was during my time as a waitress (with different worries and angst, but happier nonetheless).

Anyway… I feel like I am finally making realizations that a lot of people come to terms with during those college years- when you’re broke, you can’t afford to eat out, so you’re forced to learn a few simple dishes.

About that… I too, was a broke college kid, but I never skimmed on meals. I loved eating out and I indulged in it whenever I could. Whether it was a sit down full-service meal with friends or just a quick bite at In-N-Out… I passed on other things (like hitting up the forever21 & other cute stores on 3^rd st promenade after payday) so that I could afford to eat out- even if it was just a sandwich from Jose Bernstein’s or some McDonalds. I also worked at restaurants, so I never had the NECESSITY to really cook much, and definitely not from scratch!

At this point, anyone who is reading this probably thinks I’m some pathetic loser that survived off take-out meals & hot pockets. But hey! Don’t judge me…. ‘you don’t know my LIFE’ (in a THICK east LA chola accent)! Bahahah! (It’s funny how much I amuse myself through these writings of mine…)

So, now I’m 24. Going on 25. And this is REAL life. I’m living in Mozambique- by my complete lonesome and figuring out a lot as I go along. Now I see what all those stupid clichés were talking about! You do learn as you go! And experience is the best teacher! You do learn by doing, but mostly you learn after fucking shit up enough times. Can I make a confession? I successfully made a pot of steamed white rice last week without burning it or ruining it. SCORE! I know, I know- you think I’m pathetic. But fuck you. I felt good about that and it was such a boost to my ego. Ahahah. I know rice is probably some of the easiest food to cook- but there was always something about it that I could never get quite right! Well, not anymore. Look out world- I’m coming for ya.

Let’s see.

Other behavior changes-

I have started to hoard napkins/tissue like it’s gold (turns out a lot of people in Moz don’t use toilet paper). Rule #1 as a PCV- don’t go anywhere without toilet paper! I’ve found myself paying 5 pesos for a little bundle of toilet paper and the privilege of accessing a public restroom in Mexico before… but nothing like this before

I’ve also started recycling everything. & I mean everything- Egg cartons, wine bottles,  the jar that held my peanut butter and nutella, water bottles, cardboard boxes, Styrofoam, cans, and Ziplock bags… basically everything that can be put to use/be used as a container of some sort- & even things that might be potentially useful even if I don’t know how I will use it.

I remember almost two years ago in May (2011)… my Mom and I made a trip to Mexico so that I could see my family before setting off to Africa (at the time/originally I was scheduled to depart Oct 2011). My grandmother (who like most of us in my fam now- has dual citizenship) visits L.A. once or twice a year for a few weeks and then heads back to Michoacan when she tires of city life and decides she wants to go back to her ranchito. Well, at this time, my grandmother was heading back to Michoacan so we scheduled our trip in order to accompany her back…. We were in the plane after having eaten one of those airliner meals- when I look over and I see my grandmother guardar-ing (putting away) the napkin from the lunch packet in her purse. At the time, I thought this was sooo funny that I even laughed about it with my Mom later on, “Mafello hasta se guardo la cervilleta de la avion!” And it’s not that I make fun of my grandmother, but I have always been amused by the fact that she refuses to throw things away. She saves everything. & nowwww, I’m in Africa washing out ziplock bags and swiping toilet paper rolls from my hotel rooms, ahaha. How the tables have turned.