arthur richards

Nearly 6 months after snapping my collar bone in half from a mountain bike accident, I got back in the saddle for one of Guadalajara's 'paseo de todos' - a critical mass-esque bike ride through the city's biker unfriendly streets. It was nothing short of epic.

It was a crowning moment that happily coincided with my general sentiments of feeling comfortable, at peace and very happy to be here. After re-reading my second-to-last post, I think I can safely say I'm over the nasty hump of culture shock, although I'm sure it will be an ongoing process. Finally getting two working bikes together, beginning to get a grip on the different ways of doing things and learning to let go has helped push me in the right direction.

It's been nearly four weeks since we set foot in Guadalajara, Mexico. And it's been a long while since I've felt so confused, inspired, exhausted, excited, embarrassed, tongue-tied, adventurous and reclusive all at the same, prolonged period of time.

After wrapping up our language classes a week and a half ago, moved into our own apartment smack in the middle of Guadalajara and we started working on our project, Adapting to Scarcity, in earnest. We're subletting a sweet apartment from our friend Andrei who's currently off doing field work for his doctorate. The apartment is great (sick roof access!) and aside from the noise, air quality and pace of the area, we're in a sweet spot (tortas within a block or two in every direction, on the bus lines we care about, etc).

It's been awesome to finally get going with the project - but going from the safe, friendly, "oh you speak Spanish so well!" atmosphere of language school to serious multi-hour long meetings in fast, colloquial Spanish has been a bit of a doozy. Straining to understand what's being said around me, it's been hard to find the chutzpa to speak up. I realized that I've let the inability to express myself half as well in Spanish as I can in English be entirely paralyzing. It's been remarkably frustrating and embarrassing (especially the blunders...). But honestly, everyone we've met so far (especially the folks we're working with) are incredible - brilliant, funny, charismatic and incredibly warm. They make it easier for me to try and get over embarrassed timidity.

Sarah and I caught the World Cup qualifying game between Mexico and El Salvador yesterday. We watched with a bucket full of cervezas in front of us at a local bar near our language school in downtown Guadalajara. After snagging a prime table and settling in for some pre-gaming, we watched as the match opened in a rather unusual fashion - a colony of bees had built a nest in one of the goals in Estadio Ateca. The refs paused gameplay while they frantically attempted to eradicate the bees with what looked like fire extinguishers (see attached photo and Youtube clip below). For nearly nine minutes, we watched as the bees, displaced from their home, swarmed through the stadium looking for a new place to live.

I was originally going to write this a few days ago and title it "I've been here for almost a week and I still haven't had a taco". But all that changed after I ate two and experienced "La Venganza de Montezuma". After a friend suggested papaya enzymes (you rule, Dion!), I'm feeling immensely better.

It's been an exhausting week. For the most part we've just been trying to get oriented and acclimated. The altitude, the city, the heat, the food, the people, going back to school (!), the exchange rate, the pollution... have all been dizzying in their own way.

Sarah and I are outta here in less than 32 hours. We're off to Guadalajara, Mexico to work on a grassroots media project to document community struggles with water scarcity.

Our project, Adapting to Scarcity, has been in the works for a year. And now, we're making our final preparations to head south.

Today we packed our bags full of documentary equipment and pulled together the rest of our gear. Checking things off our to-do list, an overwhelming sense of excitement and anxiety settled in. It's a bizarre and restless feeling - a feeling I haven't felt this strongly since I packed a truck to head to New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.