My ombligo and el vértigo mexicano

1.

Carmelita, our cooking instructor, explained it to us like this: one way to say where you’re from is to say “allí está enterrado mi ombligo,” which means something like, my umbilical chord (only it’s more literally your belly button) is buried there; because that’s a tradition, I guess, to bury the umbilical chord where you were born.  At the time, after several hours of cooking, exposure to spices and kitchen humidity, I thought this was very funny, and I cried.

2.

So this past Thursday, Mexico celebrated its 200th birthday and a 100 year anniversary of the Mexican Revolution.  The program director Rodolfo is doing his best to make us question both Mexican independence and the success of the revolution; this did not, however, stop us from celebrating or gritando or trying the mezcal.

3.

On Thursday night, to celebrate independence but also because I’ve been longing for familiar flavors, I baked cookies for my host family.  It was a big mess – because I had to translate the recipe, then convert the measurements, then improvise and add some leche – and I was afraid the cookies would not leave the oven as cookies.  But they did, and I ate most of them.

4.

On Saturday, we comi-ed (combis are Mexican public transportation, not buses but vans with benches around the edges) our way to the neighboring pueblos to see the house in which Emiliano Zapata was born, then also the entrance to the hacienda where he was killed.  His remains are actually buried aquí in Cuautla, but his ombligo is elsewhere, i.e.  Anenecuilco.

5.

I also played pool in the family billiard hall for the first time, with some of my amigas from the programa, and also the sister and sister’s boyfriend of one of these amiguitas.  I wasn’t good, but I plan on being tiburón by the time I leave.

6.

And this past weekend, we combi-ed to Tepoztlán and climbed up the pirámide there for a spectacular vista of the city below.  We also edged our way around the very narrow ledge of the pyramid and (I) experienced some Mexican vertigo.

1.5.

And I love Mexico very much, but sometimes I hear my ombligo calling, ¿you know?