If the American Dream is owning a big house, a big car, the newest phone, computer, and television - at the cost of spending all my time working in order to afford these things, and spending all my time on the freeway in order to get to work to afford these things, and not having enough money to pay for healthcare because I spent most of it on the house and car, and not exercising or eating well because I was too busy working and driving... well, then, I don't think I want to take part of the American Dream.
In the same way that people look to America as a place of freedom and opportunity, I look to Europe as a place where I can walk out my front door and walk to a cafe to meet friends, ride my bicycle to the town square market to buy local fish and vegetables, take the train to visit the next city over, and live in a modest flat with giant windows overlooking the courtyard or bustling pedestrian activity, and never have to worry about replacing my car's tires or air compressor or fuel injection pump or the fact that I haven't been able to visit the dentist in over 5 years because I couldn't afford it or that I might be killed by a Hummer while riding my bicycle - well, then, I think I do want to partake in the European Dream.
02 August 2009
01 August 2009
Levanta Pompis
After a bank errand at the corner of William Cannon and Westgate, we heard loud music coming through a PA system and a voice inviting everyone to visit the new Marketplace Austin - "if you want it, we've got it!" A Spanish radio sponsor? No, a twelve-year-old boy getting a start on his future career as a deejay.
As we made our way across the parking lot, a guy in a pickup truck slowed down in front of us and asked what in the world was this Marketplace Austin all about? We replied we had no clue - that's precisely what we were going to find out. I thought, from the row of flags representing countries all over the world perched on the roof, this place might be an international warehouse of goods, groceries, and decor - like the famed World Market where you can purchase marzipan, wine, and expensive wicker furniture.
However, upon walking in, I realized this place might more accurately be called "Mercado Austin." It was a labyrinth of booths selling anything from Mexican movies, frilly underwear, Zacatecan western wear, tacos and mariscos, jewelry, toys, furniture, bridal and quinceañera dresses - to "levanta pompis" jeans. Yes, that's right - you want jeans to shape and lift your butt? They've got it!
As we made our way across the parking lot, a guy in a pickup truck slowed down in front of us and asked what in the world was this Marketplace Austin all about? We replied we had no clue - that's precisely what we were going to find out. I thought, from the row of flags representing countries all over the world perched on the roof, this place might be an international warehouse of goods, groceries, and decor - like the famed World Market where you can purchase marzipan, wine, and expensive wicker furniture.
However, upon walking in, I realized this place might more accurately be called "Mercado Austin." It was a labyrinth of booths selling anything from Mexican movies, frilly underwear, Zacatecan western wear, tacos and mariscos, jewelry, toys, furniture, bridal and quinceañera dresses - to "levanta pompis" jeans. Yes, that's right - you want jeans to shape and lift your butt? They've got it!
How Undercover Mexican Girl Came to Be
(Welcome to my first monthly column, now appearing in print in TODO Austin, which you can find in coffee shops and various places around Austin.)
I was born in the U.S. When I was four, my parents moved back to Mexico where I first learned to read by asking my grandparents to teach me the meaning of the neon signs along the streets of downtown Aguascalientes: Nescafé, Fanta, Bimbo. My parents returned to California only a couple of months prior to me starting the first grade. To help me learn English more rapidly, they placed me in summer school where I befriended, exclusively, the only other Spanish speaker.
Throughout elementary school, I was a shy child looking forward to spending entire summers in Mexico. In the sixth grade, I voluntarily left my mom and dad because I was convinced I was a Mexican national at heart—so I went to live in San Luis Potosí for a half year with my aunt and uncle. When I returned to California, I became even more alienated from my Mexican American peers; while they listened to Madonna and Michael Jackson, I listened to Timbiriche and Flans and wrote in Spanish in my private journal.
Then I moved an hour away to attend a college prep boarding school where my best friends were a Sri Lankan girl with a British accent who had grown up in Hong Kong and a half Chinese/half Indian girl who introduced me to They Might Be Giants and Dadaism.
After spending my childhood longing to be in Mexico, it had finally occurred to me that I was simply longing for culture. In fact, many different cultures. Throughout my teenage years, I wore a Jewish Chai, read Russian literature, watched French films, and admired Moroccan architecture. In the 11th grade, I transferred to a high school closer to my parents, where my Mexican American friends teased me for acting “white.”
Since moving to Austin over ten years ago, people have made anti-Mexican remarks in my presence, not knowing I was a Mexican. And if they happened to find out, they would say, “But, you’re a different kind of Mexican.” Even though I am light-skinned and I don’t wave the flag, I am highly critical of the proper use of the Spanish language and Mexican food that falsely claims to be authentic or interior. So, five years ago, when trying to explain my hybrid cultural experiences to a friend, I conceived of my alter ego: Undercover Mexican Girl. Stay tuned, amigos and friends, for more adventures and undercover tips.
UMG’s CULTURE MASH RECOMMENDATION OF THE MONTH: Take a drink to the
sounds of Shand Walton and the All Amigos Club at Lovejoys on August 13, and at The Amsterdam on August 15. The All Amigos Club—fusing mariachi, rock, Irish, folk, and blues—are highly influenced by the Latin music of Ruben Rodriguez and his Guadalajara Kings, Noche Los Tres, and Trini Lopez, the Irish blues rock of Rory Gallagher, and the British folk guitar of Davey Graham (of Guyanese and Scottish
descent).
I was born in the U.S. When I was four, my parents moved back to Mexico where I first learned to read by asking my grandparents to teach me the meaning of the neon signs along the streets of downtown Aguascalientes: Nescafé, Fanta, Bimbo. My parents returned to California only a couple of months prior to me starting the first grade. To help me learn English more rapidly, they placed me in summer school where I befriended, exclusively, the only other Spanish speaker.
Throughout elementary school, I was a shy child looking forward to spending entire summers in Mexico. In the sixth grade, I voluntarily left my mom and dad because I was convinced I was a Mexican national at heart—so I went to live in San Luis Potosí for a half year with my aunt and uncle. When I returned to California, I became even more alienated from my Mexican American peers; while they listened to Madonna and Michael Jackson, I listened to Timbiriche and Flans and wrote in Spanish in my private journal.
Then I moved an hour away to attend a college prep boarding school where my best friends were a Sri Lankan girl with a British accent who had grown up in Hong Kong and a half Chinese/half Indian girl who introduced me to They Might Be Giants and Dadaism.
After spending my childhood longing to be in Mexico, it had finally occurred to me that I was simply longing for culture. In fact, many different cultures. Throughout my teenage years, I wore a Jewish Chai, read Russian literature, watched French films, and admired Moroccan architecture. In the 11th grade, I transferred to a high school closer to my parents, where my Mexican American friends teased me for acting “white.”
Since moving to Austin over ten years ago, people have made anti-Mexican remarks in my presence, not knowing I was a Mexican. And if they happened to find out, they would say, “But, you’re a different kind of Mexican.” Even though I am light-skinned and I don’t wave the flag, I am highly critical of the proper use of the Spanish language and Mexican food that falsely claims to be authentic or interior. So, five years ago, when trying to explain my hybrid cultural experiences to a friend, I conceived of my alter ego: Undercover Mexican Girl. Stay tuned, amigos and friends, for more adventures and undercover tips.
UMG’s CULTURE MASH RECOMMENDATION OF THE MONTH: Take a drink to the
sounds of Shand Walton and the All Amigos Club at Lovejoys on August 13, and at The Amsterdam on August 15. The All Amigos Club—fusing mariachi, rock, Irish, folk, and blues—are highly influenced by the Latin music of Ruben Rodriguez and his Guadalajara Kings, Noche Los Tres, and Trini Lopez, the Irish blues rock of Rory Gallagher, and the British folk guitar of Davey Graham (of Guyanese and Scottish
descent).
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