This weekend with my brother, whose visit so far has also included the pigs and rabbits at my school, we traveled by bus through Cuatla to the town of Amecameca, or "Ameca," to the locals. We visited the local church, ate cecina, rice, beans and enchiladas in the market for lunch (the sausage we also tried brought the pig visit full circle), and strolled around the zócalo to get our bearings. But our main goal was to get into the mountains, or at least get as close as we could to the legendary volcanoes, 17,154 foot Iztaccihuatl and her neighbor,17,802 foot Popocatépetl.
The Aztec legend about the two mountains is a classic story in Mexico. Ixta, the daughter of Aztec king, fell in love with a lesser noble named Popocatépetl. Her father forbade the marriage, but she insisted, and he acquiesced, but on one condition: that Popo help the
king's troops in battle against the king's enemies. Of course, the king meant for Popo to die in battle. During the battle Popo and his men were betrayed by the Aztec troops, who left them on their own against a massive enemy attack. Everyone assumed that Popo and his men had been killed. Ixta was told that he had died, but she refused to believe that he was truly dead. Sure enough, Popo made his way back to her, and they escaped one night to start their new life together. The lived in a hut, a simple but happy life, until one day Ixta became ill, and Popo was unable to save her. That same afternoon, an earthquake shook the ground, and two volcanoes formed. A voice told Popo to take Ixta's body to the peak of one of the volcanos, which he did, placing her body on a bed of flowers. Lying by her side, he died, leaving th
eir two bodies to be covered by snow, forming the two mountains we see now: Popo, the smoking volcano, and Ixta, the mountain in the shape of a woman on her back, hands folded, feet facing Popo.
We were disappointed to see the thick smog that covered most of the valley. We had come from pretty bad pollution in Cuernavaca, and had hoped to give our eyes and lungs a break. We climbed up to a church that sits above Amecameca and looked across the town towards
the mountains (see photos). You can imagine how beautiful the view would be if the smog was not there. Compare the photos with the one I took in Grenoble, France of the Dauphiné Alps. The photo was also taken in January, and although the weather was different (France: cold, Mexico:not) there is little evidence of the inversion layer normally created by cities. Most of the pollution in the Amecameca area comes from DF, which is just over the hills (to the right in the photos). But it left me wondering what I can do to work on air pollution while I'm here...
On Tuesday, Regina and I moved from the house we were in on Calle Georgina to a little bungalow in a (gulp!) gated condo community called Torres de Cuernavaca. For those who have visited already, I have good news: we are all of a 3 minute walk from the old house. We have traded the neighbor's "shut up you *&*$*#*$ dog!" for the crowing of a rooster in the morning and small groups of children playing with sticks. Just like with the dog's owner, I plan to stay out of their way. Although we will miss the life that passed by our gates everyday (the tamale seller, the knife-sharpener, the gas seller, the old metal buyer, the
random groups of musical-instrument players asking for money, and the occasional Mormon), we are thrilled with the running trail we can take around the other buildings, the small soccer field, and the pool. Other highlights are our new landlords, one of whom is a co-worker of mine, and the washing machine! 
creatures start growing their subjects several months before. A huge display is set up in Oaxaca's zócalo, and an elevated platform wraps around the exhibits. Starting at about 5 pm, a long line forms to access the walkway, which is heavily guarded by police. To keep the radish creations fresh, the carvers spray them with water periodically 
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