Movin' on up...

I am literally, moving up, if you were looking at a map.  After much contemplation, many sleepless nights, and the inevitable Pro/Con list, I have accepted a job at a bilingual school in Tuxtla Gutierrez, Chiapas, MEXICO!  While I am very sad to leave the friends I have made in the past 90 days (I can't believe it has only been 90 days!), I think this is the right choice for me.  It has come very suddenly, I only officially found out on Wednesday, gave my notice on Thursday, my last day at the school is next Friday, and I fly to Belize City in exactly one week!  I am going to spend a couple of days in Orange Walk, where hopefully I can clear my head and laugh as much as possible.  From there, I will take a bus from Chetumal and travel for 13 hours to my new future home!

Tuxtla Gutierrez is about 20 miles (from what I have read on Wikipedia) from this AWESOME canyon pictured above.  It is surrounded by lots of great outdoor activities, is a short bus ride from San Cristobal de Las Casas, not too far from the Pacific Ocean, close to Guatemala, and also is home to a Sam's Club and Cinemark movie theater.  I know the latter two shouldn't excite me, but it is the small things in life that make me want to jump up and down.

It almost seems surreal at this point to be leaving my little niche here on the island, and I can't believe that I am FINALLY going to be able to say I LIVE in Mexico.  I am truly lucky that this opportunity is available and that is doing something I love.  Wish me luck!

My dowry

150 some odd years ago, my ancestors emigrated from Europe.  The only thing that still survives their journey is a porcelain platter.  The platter was kept in my Grandma's cedar chest for years and only brought out for special occasions.  When she passed away, my mom became the keeper of the platter.  It has been on display in our family hutch for the past 20 years.  Every now and then, I would convince my mom to pull it out so that we could look at the inscription on the back.  When I was young, I would stare at the plate and imagine the long journey it had made and be absolutely amazed that it was now just sitting in MY living room.  When Antiques Roadshow was big, my mom and I were convinced that this would be the one item worth the most in our house, not that we had any desire to sell it.  I have imagined that if I ever had children, this would be the special piece of history we would pull out and talk about.  I thought how I would share the same story my mom shared with me, that my great-great-great grandfather had been a part of a mob that was on its way to go and harass the Mormons at a meeting, and ended up becoming converted instead.  This conversion led them to embark on their journey to American and eventually to Utah.  When I held this platter, I felt a link to my family and the sacrifices they made on my part.

After 150 years, this platter is no more.  Yesterday my dad was moving something, and mistakenly broke it.  It is a loss that I think really only the females in my family truly feel.  No one was hurt, we didn't lose anything we couldn't live without, but we lost something that had been such a link to those now passed.  So many generations of women in my family had prepared and served food with this platter, and I always hoped that I would one day be able to use it.  I am incredibly sad, but it has also made me reflect the things that I am happy about the memories and items that still survive.

• Published stories about my ancestors experiences living on their farm.  Thank-you New Era.
• Recipes for a perfect pie crust, banana cream pie, Thanksgiving rolls, and a myriad of other things.
• Poetry written by my great-grandfather.
• My grandmother's jewelry, old clothes, and trinkets.  That smell of history that comes from the drawers they are stored in.
• Pictures of my grandparents after they were secretly married.
• The one picture we have of my grandpa holding me on my first birthday.  It helps me remember the one memory I have of him, of him holding me in his lap and hugging me.
• The knowledge that my ancestors made INCREDIBLE sacrifices for their family.  That they are not remembered for how wealthy they were, or the fame they attained, but what they were willing to give up to provide for their children. 

My mom and I both talked about how this has made us want to try to preserve as many photos and stories as we can.  It is also a reminder that I have been meaning to record the stories that my aunt and uncles have shared about their upbringing, and try to write them down.  I suppose this means I need to come back to Utah soon...

Baby when the lights go out

Man, I did love that song.  I would rock out to it on the bus ride home from middle school.  Good times.

The power went out yesterday, right after school ended.  It was very hot.  We had a PTA meeting at five and then I planned to hop on down to my favorite pool bar to watch the Honduras vs. El Salvador futbol game.  This game was a big deal, Honduras had to win to move on to the next round for World Cup.  I was cranky, sitting in the dark while trying to take our meeting seriously.  When I finally made it home, the sun was long gone, still no power, and the game had started.  I found Edgardo (my neighbor and dolphin-tamer) and we decided to go for a walk to try to find an open shop to buy some things, hoping the power would be back on by the time we got back.  No dice.

Edgardo and I ended up sitting in the courtyard, chatting, looking at the stars.  Without the glow of lights, being isolated from big cities and the mainland, I was reminded at how incredible it all is.  Every star glowed bright and the skyline was filled with little sparkles.  Ed and I got into a deep conversation, and almost didn't notice when the power went on.  We ran in and turned on the TV to watch Honduras gain victory.

It ended up being a pretty awesome night.

This picture has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but I just needed to post a picture of my latest stalker.  I am currently creating a list of who may stalk me on what day.  Let me know if you want to be added.

My to-do list

Cut bangs. Check. Slightly crooked? Yes.
Hike from Sandy Bay to West Bay (five-ish miles). Check. Skipped among rocks and little beaches for two of those miles. It was tough. I also ended up doing SNUBA that day. I swam 20 feet under water and hung out with a sea turtle. It was a big step for me.

Watch a sunset, whilst playing volleyball. Check. Also, I won. Boo-yah.

Attend Oasis Pool Bar Anniversary part-ay. Check. Did the rain deter the rocking out? Absolutely not. Just ask those two young-uns next to me.

Still on my list:

-Run a 10k (getting there, slowly, but surely)

-Decide if I should cheer for Honduras or US of A in tonight's futbol game. Hmm.

-Finalize my Halloween costume

-Finish teaching my class "Monster Mash" in sign language.

-Figure out the cure to frizzy hair (a life long quest)

Nikki contemplates beauty. Inner beauty.

Life is unexpected, challenging, and lovely. I am constantly reminded of that. The past two months have been unlike any other. Everything that happens here is INTENSE. I have squeezed all of my emotions and feelings onto this island like a pop bottle, and eventually the heat makes it explode. I don't just mean me, but everyone. Tempers are louder, anger is scarier, laughter is more contagious, and a sense of safety more elusive. I find myself experiencing an incredible highs and lows. I can spend the day on the beach in West Bay, just astounded by how gorgeous it is, living in a complete fantasy world, but by the time I make it back home, I have walked past the crack house, avoided a drunk in the street, and ignored the sewage flowing into the sea by my house, just completely flummoxed by the contrast of it all.All of this just keeps making me think about pretty girls. People (myself) always comment about the superficial beauty of humans and how it must make their life so much easier. They assume that it means that their life is somehow more livable and requires less effort. People also make that assumption about beautiful locations, that life should be easier living on an island, because it creates beautiful pictures. I think that assumption is very superficial. Yes, it is beautiful, but there are also so many other complicated layers that contribute to living on an island. I see the beauty, but I don't know if I necessarily feel it.

I don't really know where I am going with this, but it is something I am thinking about. That is all.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,

And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from its flight

To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes, we'll walk with a walk that is measured slow,

And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,

For the children, they mark, and the children, they know,

The place where the sidewalk ends.

Wish you were still with us Mennonite.

40 things that make me happy

The electricity and water were out all day today (again!) and so while I sat in a pool of my own sweat, hoping to feel even the slightest breeze, I compiled this list of things that make me happy. Notice that I did not include a warm gun.

The position of my head when I bite into a taco slash baleada.
Brand new journals purchased from Barnes and Noble.
The smell of fresh basil.
Lying on my back in fresh snow.
Watching a candle flicker.
Smooth, muscular arms.
Putting on a broadway soundtrack and singing in the shower.
Playing Encore while waiting for a bus/taxi/subway/etc.
Making cards and giving them to people just because.
Coca-Cola in a glass bottle, frosty from the freezer.
Taking a walk when life becomes overwhelming.
Afternoon naps in hammocks.
Simply, satisfying tasks, like cleaning my desk.
Running down the beach.
The smell of Ivory soap.
Street musicians. Good, bad, and weird.
A tanned forehead.
Candid photos that catch someone in complete, uninhibited laughter.
Barbra Streisand.
The Sunday Salt Lake Tribune strewn over the kitchen table.
Garlic naan.
"While my guitar gently weeps."
Juicy-Fruit gum.
Dumping all of the cereal out of the box to get the prize.
Cooking with friends.
Puppy breath.
Having five dollars left to spend for a week and discovering that it is possible.
Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan.
Corpse Pose. Namely after a long Yoga session.
Evenings spent on the swing of my family's front porch.
Goodnights.
The crack a book makes the first time you open it.
The certain way you smile at each other as soon as your eyes meet.
Untangling something.
Touching toes in bed.
Public libraries.
Secrets.
The first dip into peanut butter.
Impromptu dancing with friends, late at night, wherever we may be.
Watching the sun light up the blue water of the Caribbean sea.