Dreamdayproject Taking a Break

Maybe it was while trying to translate that Dreamday poem from Spanish to English, that I realized I needed to learn more Spanish to be able to develop my projects here in Mexico.

After some searching on the Internet the other day, I came a cross an intensive course at the Spanish Institute of Puebla and today was my first day back as a student again. Our kitchen table is now filled with grammar books rather than Dreamday notes and it was with both excitement and sadness that I put aside my Dreamday work for a while.

During the following four weeks I will be both a student and a teacher, making me become something like a 1 % Dreamday worker rather than the 100% one that I used to be. It is short break, but a necessary one I think.

I hope to be back soon with many new stories and experiences to write about, and until then,

Hasta Luego!

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Kicked Out From "The American Dream" (Part 1)

I never thought that my job as an English teacher would actually help me develop the Dreamdayproject in any way, but last night, just before falling asleep, I remembered something that had happened previously at school that same day and suddenly a new idea for the Dreamdayproject came to me.

The students in the school where I work all come from very different backgrounds. Last week for example I met a man who was working at the prison in Puebla. Ever since I saw the movie Escape from Alcatraz (1979 with Clint Eastwood) as a young girl, I have been fascinated with prisons. (I wonder how that is connected to my claustrophobia but never mind) Anyway, since the chapter we were supposed to discuss that day was about jobs and job interviews, I took the chance to ask this man everything I could think of regarding his job. He got to practice his English and we both left class happy and content I think...

Yesterday I was teaching a class with six students, which is usually the maximum number of students in a class at Ingles Individual. There was a new student sitting next to me and he kept talking to me while I tried to focus on another student doing a pronunciation exercise as well as correcting papers from the other students. At first I was not paying much attention to what he was saying, but as he started telling me how he had just come back to Puebla after living as an illegal immigrant in the US for over 10 years, I started to forget those papers that I was supposed to correct.

He told me that he had been caught by the police three times and that the third time he was kicked out of the country. Now he is not allowed to return to the US for atleast four years he told me.

"I was living the American dream" he said.

"I had everything, and I was even about to get married to a white girl, but then I got caught..."

The class was over far too soon and when walking out of the classroom I just knew I had to talk to this man again. I wanted to interview him, talk to him about what it was like to be an illegal immigrant in the US, how it felt to be back in Mexico after 10 years. And a thousand other questions.

I was thinking about him just before I was falling asleep last night. I was imagining what it was like living with constant fear of being caught by the police. What it was like to live a life which could be taken away from you in a second. And I kept hearing his voice over and over;

"- I was living the American dream."

I thought about the phrase and about the way he said it and suddenly I realized what I had to do next.

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Grammar Lesson

My endless days as a Dreamday worker are long gone. However, topics like dreams or shoes still seem to appear even in my new life as an English teacher.

I was having an oral exam yesterday with a boy, about 10 years old. I was asking him to make up sentences using difficult words that he had been studying during the last lessons. After a bit of reading and pronounciation exercises, I asked him to make up a sentence using the words "Fewer than". The boy was quick and said:

"I have fewer toys than my brother."

The sentence was correct of course and so we moved on to the next words; "Less than", which is supposed to be used for uncountables, such as sugar, coffee etc.

I asked him if he could make up another sentence using "Less than". The boy thought for a few seconds and then said:

"My dad has less shoes than my mum."

Hm, I said, are you sure? Isn´t it possible to count shoes?

No, he said, my mum has so many shoes it is impossible to count them...

I guess you just have to give him right for that, don´t you?

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A Dream (Thurs-)Day Outfit

New habits were quickly formed as the swine flu hit Mexico a couple of weeks ago. In the school where I work, we all had to wear those mouth covers in class. That was before the school closed for a week. (It is impossible to have a normal conversation wearing one by the way!)

Those mouth covers have been funny to follow; At first they were just blue and plain. Everybody seemed to be wearing the same ones, and it was nothing more than a simple mouth cover. However, pretty soon people didn´t seem to like the fact that they all looked the same; I guess they wanted to express their personalities somehow. And so they did through their mouth covers.

Some people wore home made versions (made out of a dish cloth for example). Others went for more stylish ones in elegant white, made out of exclusive fabric. I even spotted a few ones that looked like gas masks with a small ventilation in the front. I think those were worn by very serious people, probably with good market connections. And then there were of course the individualists; the ones who started to make drawings on their masks, for example a moustache or a big smile.

This week all the classes have been running as normal again and the mouth covers have disappeared (I almost miss them!) and instead the "gel" era has begun. You can now find an antibacterial gel in every reception or at the counter in various cafes. At my school the students must stay in line to have their hands cleaned with this gel before entering the classroom. Who knows if all this really works, but I guess we all need to have something to believe in.

Tomorrow it is Thursday again by the way; that is pink t-shirt day as you might already know. I forgot to tell you last time that the five day uniform that all the teachers must wear, also includes pants and shoes in different colours; Pink t-shirt is supposedly best combined with grey pants and black shoes. It is my boss´s favorite combination he told me, so I assume Thursdays have become somewhat of a dreamday to him...

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Proyecto Zapato-The Shoeproject in Spanish

The day after my presentation in Oaxaca I felt that it was time to focus on something else rather than dreams. However my desire to interview strangers was only growing stronger, so the very same day I decided to make my first interviews for Proyecto Zapato, a documentary project with shoe polishers in Mexico.

This is how I made these interviews:

1. I walk up to one of the many shoe polisher that you can see around the main square in almost every Mexican city.

2. I ask how much it costs to have my shoes polished.

3. They usually tell me it is about 10 pesos.

4. I say: Fine, the price sounds reasonable.

5. But since I always wear sandals I point at my sandals saying that I don´t really need to have them polished but that I will give him 10 pesos anyway if he could help me with something...

6. The man asks what.

7. I tell him that I am collecting stories about shoes and I ask him if he would like to participate with a story. He wouldn´t have to polish my shoes and he would get 10 pesos in return.

8. If he says yes I ask him if I can record him.

9. I turn on my camera and start filming:



This man is one of the first shoe polishers that I interviewed. He has worked for 14 years as a shoe polisher in Oaxaca, Mexico.

During these years he has seen all kinds of shoes he told me. I asked him if he had noticed anything in particular regarding shoes and he told me that these days many people wear shoes that are a little bit pointy and that they often are pointing upwards, a little bit like an Arab shoe. I asked if it was just certain people wearing them but he said that almost everybody wears these now and that it is a part of the fashion these days.

Since an Arab shoe is pointing slightly upwards (like he tries to illustrate to me with his hands) I asked him what a typical Mexican shoe would look like. He said they are just normal shoes, like the ones he is wearing himself, or sandals.

He also told me that his last customer was wearing a pair that were in very bad shape so he had to work very hard with them. But that is quite rare he said, a lot of people wear tennis shoes these days and they never come to polish them. I guess I never saw tennis shoes as a threat to an occupation before.

Click here to watch more videos by Proyecto Zapato


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How I Found A Dreamday Poem

Sometimes when you are searching for something in particular, it might happen that you walk right into it, but because it didn´t come to you as you had imagined, and the appearance wasn´t exactly what you had expected, you end up walking past it while your mind is entirely focused on finding that very same thing.

There are probably thousands of situations like that, passing us by without our notice. It was just about to happen to me yesterday but luckily something made me stop for a second.

It all happened when I was on my way to the bank. I was crossing the main square with music in my ears and the laptop under my arm. I walked past the big fountain, looking at the shoe polishers that I had planned to interview later this week. I was thinking about my projects and how to proceed and I was thinking about the Dreamdayproject. Had I collected my last Dreamday in Oaxaca? Was it time to move on and leave the project to its destiny?

While I was in the middle of these thoughts I noticed two teenagers walking up to me. One of them was making a gesture to take of my headphones. At first I was slightly irritated. I was right in the middle of a great song* and I was in a hurry to go to the bank and later to the café so that I could get started with my projects. But as the polite girl I am, I took of my headphones and turned to the two guys. After all I didn´t have that many people to talk to during a normal day. I guess it wouldn´t hurt to hear what they had to say.

-Would you like a poem? The same guy asked me.

-A Poem?

-Yes, a poem. I will write it for you now.

-Hm, I am not sure...

(The guy made a disappointed face. )

-That is what everybody says! Nobody wants my poems!

I looked at him and in the same moment I realized something. Was this how people saw me when I walked up to them asking them about their Dreamday? Were they perhaps in the middle of their favorite song too?

-Ok, so how does it work? I said.

-You can choose the topic yourself and then I will write a poem to you in a couple of minutes. In return you can just give me a smile or maybe some money if you want...

-Alright I said, but let me just go to the bank first, I don´t have any money on me.

-Are you sure you will come back?

-Yes, I will be here at the fountain again in five minutes.

-You promise?

-Yes!

On my way to the bank I continued listening to that very same song while going through the conversation with the young guy in my head. What a brilliant idea to write poems and sell. If there are no jobs, just create one. I have never seen this creativity among people anywhere else than here in Mexico and I loved it. And of course I wanted a poem. But about what??

I bought myself a bottle of water and then I walked back to the fountain. The guy was still there with his friend. We sat down on a bench next to the fountain and started to talk.

-You know on my way to the bank I thought about the idea, I said. And you know what? I realized I would very much like a poem actually. It also fits perfectly into a project that I am working on right now.

-Ah yeah?

-Yes, I would like you to write a poem on the topic: A Dreamday. Could you do that?

-Sure! He said and took up his notebook.

While he was writing we chatted for a while about his poems and about the people he had met. He told me his business was slow and that nobody wanted to pay for his poems.

-People think that art is for free, even the guys selling lollipops make more than me...

As he kept writing I talked to his friend. I told him about my projects and what a great coincidence this whole thing turned out to be. I found a couple of stickers that I had forgotten in my bag since the presentation in Oaxaca and gave them to them.

By now the poet was done with his work and he started to read it to me. I wasn´t exactly sure about what it all meant, but I think I liked it. Afterwards he gave me the written copy. I thanked him, gave him some money in return and said good bye. Then I continued walking towards my favorite cafe at the corner of the square, ordered an ice tea, and started to write it all down.

The first Dreamday poem had been written and incorporated into the the Dreamdayproject. I can´t believe I almost missed it.






*) While writing this post I realized that the song that I had been listening to, was called "Drömmarna" (The Dreams) by Freddie Wadling. Life is full of coincidences isn´t it?

Listen to 30 seconds of "Drömmarna" by Freddie Wadling

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The Dreamdayproject Back in Crime!

I committed my first crime when I was eight months old. I was on the first page of the local newspaper with the headline: "Krystallia, eight months old and already a criminal!" (Yes it is true!)

They let me go with a fine of something like 80SEK that time and I have tried to keep on the right side of the law ever since.* Until a couple of weeks ago...

What happened almost exactly two weeks ago was not a crime committed during any moment of confusion or adrenaline. It was all planned into detail. As a matter of fact, the more I had thought about it, the more sense it all made. This was in fact the perfect crime and I had no choice but to carry through with the plan.

I eventually involved my boyfriend in the plot as well as a visiting friend from the US and one late night the three of us were ready to strike. As the perfect criminal I am, I also convinced the guys to do the dirty work whereas I could take a step back and purely serve as the brain behind the crime.

It all went exactly as planned. There were some stressful seconds, a few worried looks around our shoulders, but suddenly we all turned ice-cold and got down to business. It was over in less than 10 seconds. There were a couple of witnesses to the scene further away in the park, but we managed to stay cool and after the short operation was over, we walked away with our loot in our hands as if nothing had happened. We came home, closed the door and took a deep breath.

Then came the part that you usually don´t hear so much about; the cleaning up, the removal of all traces and a few moments of remorse. But when we all looked at our acquisition it was all forgotten. We had indeed committed the perfect crime.

So let me introduce you to my first outlaw in our garden:



And if one day I would be caught by the Mexican police, this is what I would say on my defense:

"This tree was badly mistreated in the park where it used to be. I had seen it for weeks and it was always thirsty and sad. That cannot be a Dreamday for a tree, can it? I think it will be happier with me in my garden, that is why I did it." (And if they still would find me gulity, I guess I would just blame the guys...)

The tree looked a little rough at first but I am can now happily report that it is recovering amazingly quickly and every day it puts out new leaves.

* If I remember right (my memory of this crime is slighlty more blurry...) my birth had not been registered to the authorities in Greece. Nothing you would be put to prison for, but during my first eight months I was an outlaw.



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