Journaling from the seat of clouds

-Get on the 7AM bus for Tlaxiaco. It's an uneventful trip. I'm so familiar witht he raod up that I can drift off to sleep, drooling on my neighbor's jacket, and wake up with clarity as to where we are, and how much longer we have until our arrival.
-I arrive at XETLA. Catching up on the news take a while, since I haven't been up to the station in the last month. Everyone here seems to have four jobs. I hear from Doña Vicki, who is the longest standing member of the station staff, that when she departs in the afternoon from the station, she makes comida for her family, then heads to their shoe repair store in the afternoon until 9 PM that night. Talk about a long day! But the hard work has afforded her kids (3 of them) college tuition, plus room and board in México City.

-I chat with Araceli, after participating in the most awkward hug ever witnessed, I'm sure. (They don't kiss on the cheek in the pueblos; they shake hands. And sometimes, they shakes hands, hug (but they veer right in the embrace here--not left, like in the States.), and then shake hands again to close the gesture.) I go for a traditional kiss on the cheek--Araceli leans away, I laugh nervously, and we collide into a haphazard hug. Yuck, weirdness.

-Araceli shows me two projects that the station's producers worked on this past year. The first is a documentary film about the station, and its anniversary celebration each year. An opportunity to exhibit the film in Switzerland may be on the horizon for her next year. I've promised to help her translate the film's script into English so she can add subtitles.

The second project is a radio play that six of the country's indigenous stations created. The radio soap opera was popular and common even up until six years ago. But since then it has disappeared. Thus, the stations got together to revive this old practice, and to brainstorm thematic ideas relevant to their respective communities. They then wrote the script, and recorded the play with sound effects--all in nine days! It's theme? Migration, of course! What's great is that it's truly a reflection of what's happening in people's lives here; they've amped up the drama, clearly. So, it's complete with love triangles, family squabbles, violence and drunkenness--like any good soap opera. But it's not a soap opera about the lives of the rich and beautiful. It's about these communities.

-Eva agrees to go with me to San Juan Mixtepec the following day. I've got to find my tortillera. I interviewed her at the village festival over a month ago. All I've got is a part of her name and a picture. Hopefully it will be enough to track down her house.

-I spend the remainder of the day collecting tape from the archive. I need tape of old shows, station IDs and music. It's a jumble of cardboard boxes, stacks of cassettes and reels. I wind my way through the media maze; some stacks sit, waiting to be digitalized, as part of the station's newest initiative. Others gather dust--waiting for the day when the new building is ready--and they get to see the light of day again. I'm sifting through old radio plays, when I ask, "Where do you keep the tapes of the two current on-air shows that use the station's satellite to connect to the U.S.?" They don't. "You don't keep recordings of those shows? But, but, I've seen you insert a minidisc to record the show." They only do that to send a copy to the México City office of the CDI; then they erase the minidisc to record over later. Shit. Well, there goes a portion of my project. I can't track where calls with greetings originate from and where they are sending saludos without that archive. Such is life.

-I hop a taxi with Eva to town center. I've been away from Tlaxiaco for a month now. And even though I pay for the whole month of rent on a room in town, I'm a bit afraid the family will have taken my month-long absence as an opportunity to move someone else in. And sure enough, there's luggage in my room and the bed is a mess when I walk in. I should have called in advance, clearly. The daughter apologizes and explains that her brother was occupying the room. She take out his bag--but doesn't change the sheets, or make the bed--leaving me to discover her bro's boxers tangled in the cartoon linens. Thumbs down.

-I shuffle myself to a restaurant for dinner. I take the downtime to plan for tomorrow's interviews, as well as study a bit of Spanish vocab. Did you know that "farándula" is "the private lives of the famous." Look at us learning!

-When I return "home" the three layers of wool blankets await me. It's cold here in Tlaxiaco. I pop in my earplugs (thanks, Holly!). Try to wake me up now, pinche gallo.