Hello!
Sorry it's been so quiet over here lately. I took the decision a few weeks ago to move the blog to a new website, Tumblr. Tumblr has more reach than BlogSpot and an easier interface to use at this end, so hopefully will result in more posts, and better posts! However, I then made the monumental error of not telling anyone where it had gone! So here is the current address of the Get a Woggle on Blog:
http://getawoggleon.tumblr.com
For those of you who subscribed through my Feedburner thing where you entered your email address, I am trying to move your subscriptions over to the new blog, but it is not as simple as I first thought and I am now talking to various tech support people to work out the kinks. Hopefully service should be restored soon! In the meantime, check back to that address every now and again to see what new stuff I have put up - there should be a fair bit to read for you now to keep you going!
Sorry for leaving y'all in the dark for so long! I'll let you know if anything changes.
Jon
Tuesday 2 July 2013
Monday 10 June 2013
Boy Scouts of America - a brief introduction
Yesterday, in a very welcome break from the cloud cover that seems to be perpetually hanging over Los Angeles this month, I was given my first experience of the Boy Scouts of America. And you know what? I absolutely loved it! And it gave me a great chance to learn a bit more about the structure of the BSA, which I will try to relate here.
The first event I went to, with Second Cousins Oliver and Ben, was a Pack 718's rocket launch. The premise was simple; make a rocket out of paper an tape that would be stuck on a tube attached to a compressed air cylinder; the Cubmaster released the pressure, and hey presto! Rockets!
At the launch I saw lots of cubs with different coloured hats; orange, yellow and blue. These referred to different ranks of Cub Scouts; Tigers, Wolves, and Bears (ranks are a recurrent theme here in BSA). Each one is given a different scarf and cap to wear as part of their uniform, which is a dark blue shirt. The whole group is called the "pack", the same as the UK, and within the pack the kids are split into 'Dens'. Dens are very similar to UK Cub Scouts' 'Sixes', and are led by one Cub called a 'Denner', but each Den is also lead by a Cubmaster and meets separately to the other dens, each week; once a month the whole pack gets together for an activity like the rocket launch I saw. The Dens are normally based on age and rank, so you will end up with a Den of Tiger Cubs, Wolf Cubs, or Bear Cubs. After Bear cubs there is a rank called Webelos; Webelos means "WE'll BE LOyal Scouts", and focuses on the transition up to the Boy Scouts, and they wear green caps (or, according to good old Wikipedia, they can wear the Boy Scout uniform with blue shoulder loops!).
The rocket launch was a lot of fun; paper and sellotape everywhere, pens that didn't quite work properly to decorate the rockets with, big fun-loving Cubmasters manning the pneumatic rocket guns, and an atmosphere of organised chaos hanging over the whole scene. But we weren't there for too long; I had been invited to Troop 718's Honor Court! Now I know what you're thinking; what is an Honor Court?
Well, an Honor court is a formal event at which the Scouts are awarded their badges; this is different to the UK, where badges are normally given out at the end of meetings. The event was MC'd by two of the older scouts, who called up their fellows individually for their merit badges. It was here I learnt that Boy Scouts wear their merit badges on a sash; it was very confusing at first because in the UK only Brownie Guides wear sashes!
After Merit badges, rank advancements were awarded. The ranks represent a Boy Scout's advancement through the section, and is the path that ultimately results in the title of Eagle Scout; the highest rank in the Boy Scouts. I didn't get a chance to learn all the ranks, and for this I think it would be cheating to look them up on Wikipedia, so I will have to try and learn them from another scout when I next meet some! The ranks I did see were Tenderfoot, Second Class, First Class, and Life Scout; Life Scouts, I believe, are only one rank away from being Eagle Scouts.
After the awards had been presented, I was honoured to be given a chance to talk about my trip, and to try to enthuse the kids with an international curiosity. In the US, Boy Scouts range from 10.5 years to 17, so there was a wide range of ages to talk to, from those who would simple enjoy talking to a foreign pen-pal to those who are in a position to start thinking about making their own international adventures, and make their own friends in other countries. And I also knew that my public speaking skills were getting better; I kept the kids interested even though I was standing between them and food, games, and pie eating!
Speaking of pies... if you watch this YouTube video you can see what happened when I was invite to take part in the Boy Scouts' pie toss...
Did you watch it? If you did, then you will have met my cousins Ben and Oliver! (Ben was the one who threw the last pie). It was ok though, we all made friends in the end...
The first event I went to, with Second Cousins Oliver and Ben, was a Pack 718's rocket launch. The premise was simple; make a rocket out of paper an tape that would be stuck on a tube attached to a compressed air cylinder; the Cubmaster released the pressure, and hey presto! Rockets!
At the launch I saw lots of cubs with different coloured hats; orange, yellow and blue. These referred to different ranks of Cub Scouts; Tigers, Wolves, and Bears (ranks are a recurrent theme here in BSA). Each one is given a different scarf and cap to wear as part of their uniform, which is a dark blue shirt. The whole group is called the "pack", the same as the UK, and within the pack the kids are split into 'Dens'. Dens are very similar to UK Cub Scouts' 'Sixes', and are led by one Cub called a 'Denner', but each Den is also lead by a Cubmaster and meets separately to the other dens, each week; once a month the whole pack gets together for an activity like the rocket launch I saw. The Dens are normally based on age and rank, so you will end up with a Den of Tiger Cubs, Wolf Cubs, or Bear Cubs. After Bear cubs there is a rank called Webelos; Webelos means "WE'll BE LOyal Scouts", and focuses on the transition up to the Boy Scouts, and they wear green caps (or, according to good old Wikipedia, they can wear the Boy Scout uniform with blue shoulder loops!).
The rocket launch was a lot of fun; paper and sellotape everywhere, pens that didn't quite work properly to decorate the rockets with, big fun-loving Cubmasters manning the pneumatic rocket guns, and an atmosphere of organised chaos hanging over the whole scene. But we weren't there for too long; I had been invited to Troop 718's Honor Court! Now I know what you're thinking; what is an Honor Court?
 |
| I wasn't expecting this, to be honest with you, but I was secretly hoping for it (source) |
Well, an Honor court is a formal event at which the Scouts are awarded their badges; this is different to the UK, where badges are normally given out at the end of meetings. The event was MC'd by two of the older scouts, who called up their fellows individually for their merit badges. It was here I learnt that Boy Scouts wear their merit badges on a sash; it was very confusing at first because in the UK only Brownie Guides wear sashes!
 |
| Cub Scouts actually wear their badges on their belts, which I personally think is brilliant. If they earn the second stage of each merit badge they get to wear a pin on their shirts, too |
After Merit badges, rank advancements were awarded. The ranks represent a Boy Scout's advancement through the section, and is the path that ultimately results in the title of Eagle Scout; the highest rank in the Boy Scouts. I didn't get a chance to learn all the ranks, and for this I think it would be cheating to look them up on Wikipedia, so I will have to try and learn them from another scout when I next meet some! The ranks I did see were Tenderfoot, Second Class, First Class, and Life Scout; Life Scouts, I believe, are only one rank away from being Eagle Scouts.
After the awards had been presented, I was honoured to be given a chance to talk about my trip, and to try to enthuse the kids with an international curiosity. In the US, Boy Scouts range from 10.5 years to 17, so there was a wide range of ages to talk to, from those who would simple enjoy talking to a foreign pen-pal to those who are in a position to start thinking about making their own international adventures, and make their own friends in other countries. And I also knew that my public speaking skills were getting better; I kept the kids interested even though I was standing between them and food, games, and pie eating!
"Dude, shall we just push him out the way and eat pie?"
"Wait until the leaders start looking bored first, man"
Speaking of pies... if you watch this YouTube video you can see what happened when I was invite to take part in the Boy Scouts' pie toss...
Did you watch it? If you did, then you will have met my cousins Ben and Oliver! (Ben was the one who threw the last pie). It was ok though, we all made friends in the end...
Ice cream, the healer of all pie-related conflict
Thursday 6 June 2013
Week 5: Borders, Buses and Burgers: my first few days in the USA
Neckers swapped: 1
Waffles eaten: nearly 2
Miles travelled: 1,139.1 (16 on a bike)
Hours spent on long distance buses: 19
Species of duck observed: 2 (maybe 3, but for a while 1 because I didn't believe that Muscovy Ducks existed because seriously, what kind of duck doesn't quack?!)
The bus ride to Monterrey was uneventful,
though I did get to watch The Lion King
en Espanol. I had some fun getting a taxi to the airport from the bus station,
as I did eventually have to go and get some more cash out (In some places in Mexico
they combat taxi drivers taking advantage of tourists by issuing you with a
pre-paid ticket to a set destination, such as the airport, but of course they
didn’t accept cards!). Once at the airport, the debate of which terminal I
should be sat in – the one my ticket said, or a different one – ended with the
conclusion that I should not trust my ticket, and a short walk from Terminal C
to Terminal A. I also went through my old tradition of taking a full bottle of
water in case of thirst, not drinking it, and then having to down it all before
going through the X-ray machine; or this time around, after going through the
X-ray machine. At least the security guys were impressed/amused by my ability
to drink water at a great speed. And a short flight later, I found myself in
the USA!
Waffles eaten: nearly 2
Miles travelled: 1,139.1 (16 on a bike)
Hours spent on long distance buses: 19
Species of duck observed: 2 (maybe 3, but for a while 1 because I didn't believe that Muscovy Ducks existed because seriously, what kind of duck doesn't quack?!)
It’s been an emotional week. Leaving
Mexico, entering the US, and just over a quarter of the total trip done. But
what a week!
Despite y’all having heard from me before I
left Mexico (see how I’m learning the local language!), I will go back to
Guadalajara. I was shown round the sights by Laura Vina and Gilberto, two local
rovers who were very happy to exchange neckers with Furze Platt Scout Group –
an I hope that they have a lot of fun talking to each other! I saw the giant
indoor market, which was reminded me of a modern version of the Grand Bazaar in
Istanbul (and it will remind any Assassin’s
Creed: Revelations player of the same thing), though I didn’t get a hat
there that looked really good, as I didn’t have enough pesos left to get it and
I didn’t want to get more pesos out when I was leaving so soon. No matter; that
evening I had dinner with Laura and Omar, the local Clan leader, and another
guy who’s name escapes me right now, who was the local caminantes leader. They
were kind enough to drop me at a local bar, where Miguel and some friends were
meeting, listening to some chilled out Jazz; all in all, it was a fantastic last
night in Mexico.
 |
| Here I am doing my famous 'Ray Charles Salsa' impression with one of the locals... |
 |
| ... as you can tell from their face, they were a big fan! |
Look Ma! I saved these especially for the plane trip!
It was quite disorienting at first just
hearing English again as a background language. It was surprising to find
myself understanding what other people around me could say, but this was made
up for by the coins being infinitely more confusing – the difference between a
nickel and a dollar coin is not as easy as the difference between 5 and 10
pesos, and the fact that the US has dollar bills and dollar coins is equally as
confusing. Nonetheless I manage to get a bus downtown, discover that the
Greyhound bus terminal did not have sufficient luggage storage to look after my
things for the day, and wander around until I found a friendly Marriott hotel
who were happy to look after it for me (for free no less – thanks guys!) I then
proceeded to spend a great day wandering San Antonio’s waterways, even renting
a bike to explore a bit outside the city to the missions (big ol’ church
things). After an evening spent eating in a nice restaurant and watching a
charity performance of Hispanic dancing styles in the open air theatre (the
stage is separated from the audience by part of the river network) it was time
to collect my bag and go wait at the bus station.
There was only one, over-worked and
under-interested looking fellow working on the desk, but I was a little put out
when, at 3:55am (5 minutes after my bus was due to leave), having heard nothing
about my bus but assuming it was slightly late, the desk guy walked past and
casually informed me that my bus had left. Of course! I had forgotten that the
Greyhound bus service have a habit of overselling their busses, and so they
tell you on the ticket that said ticket does not actually guarantee you a space
on your bus, just a place in the fight for a space on the bus. And this time
around, it seemed, I had not even managed to get that. Slightly annoyed, and
missing the efficiency and comfort of Mexico’s Primera Plus service, I settled
down to wait until 5:25am for the next bus.
"Sir, your replacement bus has arrived. Just hang your baggage on the horns"
This bus did arrive, and I was aware of it,
but it was a close run thing to get on – as before, the bus was overbooked, and
the poor driver was having a hard time fitting everyone on! Thankfully I wasn’t
delayed again until 8am, and made it on to the bus where I enjoyed the driver’s
unique pre-drive safety announcement, which suggested I should use my headset
if I wanted to listen to my tape player (some of you reading this may not even
know what a tape player is!) and that I should stay out of jail by not smoking
on the bus, as if I was smoking on the bus the police could be called. There
was also something about not talking to the driver because he had to
concentrate on the tractors on his back, and a general comment about what a
madhouse the greyhound bus was. But six hours later I arrived in Dallas, not in
the hands of local law enforcement and with no tractor-related accidents to
speak of, where I met Karin Oxtoby.
Here we both are, dressed in traditional Oxtoby costume
Karin and I are not, as yet, officially
related. We share the same surname, and this is how we know each other; there
is a Facebook group for Oxtobys to come together to talk about Oxtoby related
issues and share fun stories about how nobody can spell our name right. The
name is rare enough that we probably are distantly related, but since my Mum
hasn’t yet spoken to the Canadian branch of Oxtobys to link up family trees,
it’s all speculation at this point. Nevertheless, she kindly took me into her
home, introduced me to her hedgehogs, and even drove me around while I tried to
meet with various BSA officials to establish how I was going to register for,
and attend, the BSA Jamboree in July. We wandered round the BSA Museum we discovered next to the office, went out for some drinks, and went along to Boot Camp exercise class (45 minutes of repeated
activities which were not a good idea having drunk nearly 2 litres of
strawberry Fanta just an hour before). One day we ate waffles for breakfast and burgers for lunch, and the other two days we had steak for dinner. We even played the House of the Dead on her PS3, and went cycling round a lake where we met a guy giving out free advice! It was a lot of fun and I am sad
that I only got to spend three days with her.
And the hedgehog! LOOK AT IT!
However, time waits for no man and before
long I found myself waiting for my 29 hour bus journey over to L.A, there to
see some more immediate family, David & Connie (my Mum’s cousin and
cousin-in-law). Find out what happens to me there, and why the week started on such a
bummer, next time!
Friday 31 May 2013
Thoughts as I sit in the departure lounge, part II
Another early morning, another departure lounge. Only this time the music of Frank Tuner's 'Peggy Sang the Blues' is in my ears, I am considerably browner than before (though nobody in Mexico believes this) and I am trying to work out how to show you all a photo slideshow of my time in Mexico without missing my flight while uploading pictures.
Mexico, my friend. We spent a month together. You taught me a lot of things, including:
But I think, most of all, the thing that has astonished me time and time again is the people. In the UK we are not taught much about Mexico; it's a dangerous place, it has a massive drug trade, and you can't trust anyone. But here, I've seen a totally different picture: people who are happy to open their doors to a stranger, to welcome them, and look after them. I've been offered food from people's picnics just because I was sat near them. At least three Mums have sent me off with packed lunches as I got on a bus, and I've had dinner bought for me more times than I can mention, despite my best efforts to pay for something. The generosity of Mexicans astonishes me time and time again. Their trust has also been something of an honour, as I have been left alone in houses, or helped to look after kids, all belonging to people that I've known for a day or more. Now I'm not stupid; I know there are people who aren't so nice in Mexico, and I know that I have been lucky because of my Scouting connections. But even so, I think I am still right about the people of Mexico; the bad people are no worse than those in the UK, or the USA, or anywhere else in the world. And Mexicans... I don't know how to describe it. They just seem to live more than we do in the UK. Their passion for all things - Scouting, cooking, drinking, partying - they live it all on the outside of their skin in a way that is quite incredible.
I've also gone and learnt some stuff about myself on this journey so far. The best way to sum it up came to me last night as I was sat on my 12 hour coach from Guadalajara to Monterrey, as the music from the credits of whatever film was on played. One phrase stood out: "you can do whatever you want". Now that phrase probably makes you think of wild antics, doing as much in as possible, and pushing yourself as hard as you can because you might not get another chance. But I would say, after my experiences in Mexico, that is only a part of what those expressions are about. "You can do whatever you want" isn't a challenge to do as much as you can; it's an invitation to do as much - or as little - as you want. Looking back over my life thus far, I can think of far too many times when I haven't wanted to do whatever was going on at the time, and felt bad about it because I felt like I wasn't living up to my potential. And that's wrong. In Mexico I've done what I wanted, when I wanted to, and if that wasn't as much as everyone else would have done then it didn't matter. Nobody in Mexico made me feel bad when I wanted to get some sleep to get up early, or to just sit and read a book for a day instead of dash off to see the sights, and when I think about it, nobody in the UK actually makes me feel bad when I want to do my own thing - it's just me, feeling like I've failed some sort of test. So, going forward, I'm going to try and keep the phrase "do whatever you want" in mind, to remind myself to be comfortable with what I want to do, whatever that is.
Right - time to go get on the plane. See you all stateside, and thanks for reading so far! I promise to try and get some picture related things up soon; if anyone has any ideas for how to o that then just leave a comment!
Mexico, my friend. We spent a month together. You taught me a lot of things, including:
- Enchiladas an Quesadilla are not the same thing
- Enough Spanish to successfully talk to a taxi driver at 3 in the morning
- 11am is a very acceptable time to visit a bar
- Turtles really DO just hang around near the beach, waiting to say hello
- How to hold a taco properly to stop all the sauce from falling out
- The Tzolkin (ancient Mayan Calendar) and the concept of Galactic Time
But I think, most of all, the thing that has astonished me time and time again is the people. In the UK we are not taught much about Mexico; it's a dangerous place, it has a massive drug trade, and you can't trust anyone. But here, I've seen a totally different picture: people who are happy to open their doors to a stranger, to welcome them, and look after them. I've been offered food from people's picnics just because I was sat near them. At least three Mums have sent me off with packed lunches as I got on a bus, and I've had dinner bought for me more times than I can mention, despite my best efforts to pay for something. The generosity of Mexicans astonishes me time and time again. Their trust has also been something of an honour, as I have been left alone in houses, or helped to look after kids, all belonging to people that I've known for a day or more. Now I'm not stupid; I know there are people who aren't so nice in Mexico, and I know that I have been lucky because of my Scouting connections. But even so, I think I am still right about the people of Mexico; the bad people are no worse than those in the UK, or the USA, or anywhere else in the world. And Mexicans... I don't know how to describe it. They just seem to live more than we do in the UK. Their passion for all things - Scouting, cooking, drinking, partying - they live it all on the outside of their skin in a way that is quite incredible.
I've also gone and learnt some stuff about myself on this journey so far. The best way to sum it up came to me last night as I was sat on my 12 hour coach from Guadalajara to Monterrey, as the music from the credits of whatever film was on played. One phrase stood out: "you can do whatever you want". Now that phrase probably makes you think of wild antics, doing as much in as possible, and pushing yourself as hard as you can because you might not get another chance. But I would say, after my experiences in Mexico, that is only a part of what those expressions are about. "You can do whatever you want" isn't a challenge to do as much as you can; it's an invitation to do as much - or as little - as you want. Looking back over my life thus far, I can think of far too many times when I haven't wanted to do whatever was going on at the time, and felt bad about it because I felt like I wasn't living up to my potential. And that's wrong. In Mexico I've done what I wanted, when I wanted to, and if that wasn't as much as everyone else would have done then it didn't matter. Nobody in Mexico made me feel bad when I wanted to get some sleep to get up early, or to just sit and read a book for a day instead of dash off to see the sights, and when I think about it, nobody in the UK actually makes me feel bad when I want to do my own thing - it's just me, feeling like I've failed some sort of test. So, going forward, I'm going to try and keep the phrase "do whatever you want" in mind, to remind myself to be comfortable with what I want to do, whatever that is.
Right - time to go get on the plane. See you all stateside, and thanks for reading so far! I promise to try and get some picture related things up soon; if anyone has any ideas for how to o that then just leave a comment!
Tuesday 28 May 2013
Week 4: Blink and you'll miss it
Neckers swapped: 2
Drug dealers met by accident: 1
Statues of Don Quixote seen: 5
Mummified children seen: 18
Moped rides taken: 2
Ex-Pinkies met: 2
As the title implies, time is speeding up. I'm sitting in Miguel's house in Guaalajara, while he works this morning, and I'm wondering how I got to the point that there were only two days left in Mexico.
So what happened this week?
Well it all started in Celaya, meeting Gaby, Ex-Pinkie from 2010. For the uninitiated, a Pinkie is a short-term staff member at Kandersteg International Scout Centre (KISC), which is something I did during the Autumn of 2011 (I wrote a blog about it that you can read here, too). She took me for my first ever moped ride, which was exciting.
She also took me to dinner with the local Scout Group, Grupo 5 Celaya, at which I met some Caminantes, Rovers, Lobatos and Scouters from the group. They were very happy to swap a necker with 1st Helmsley Scout Group in Yorkshire
After that, I was shown the rover house of Grupo 5, which I was going to sleep in until someone suggested that I actually went to Hector's house, as he was travelling to Queretaro in the morning, where I needed to go, so he could give me a lift and save me the price of a bus ticket. I was really touched by the gesture, though a little embarrassed when he actually mopped his floor before he would let me in his room! There was just time for some late night necker swapping and badge swapping before bed.
The next day I was off to Queretaro, where I met my fantastic tour guide/friend from Facebook Armando Quintana, who showed me round the beautiful town centre, the local convent and gave me a traditional Oaxacan food experience!
Having recovered from the Oaxacan food experience, I was off to Guanajuato to meet Erick Perez. Unfortunately for Erick I was about 2 hours late after my bus broke down and we had to stop in a next town to change busses. Good thing Erick had a book to read while he waited! We dropped my stuff in his house and went to see a bit of the town by night, including Estudentinas (wandering groups of musicians who perform local folk tunes), a rock bar, and watching the semi finals of the Mexican league in a very noisy bar
The next day I was shown the sights of Guanajuato, including the Mummies. The story here is that in Mexico you have to keep up payments if you want your family's remains to stay underground; when you can't pay any more, they dig up the body and cremate it. However, when they started digging up bodies in this cemetery, they found that the ground had naturally preserved them, sometimes in incredible condition. I won't put any of the pictures up as some of them (especially the children) are really a bit creepy, and some of you might have been inspired to start eating your own Oaxacan friend grasshoppers and blue tortillas so I don't want to make you sick!
On Saturday we took a quick trip to San Miguel de Allende to see the sights, and then on to Uriangato (with a detour back to Celaya because I left my water bottle there the first time!). At Uriangato I met up with the Red Jovenes, a network of rover scouts who meet to discuss issues important to Scouting. I also got to participate in a session that is apparently very common in Rovers in Mexico, though somehow up until now I had never encountered it.
Everyone was given some red wine, some cheese and some bread. Then, we went round in a circle, telling stories. The red wine symbolised grief or melancholy, and so first round everyone told a story about a sad time in their lives. Each story was finished with a toast of "Avante" (literally "forwards" or "ahead") and a sip of the wine. The cheese was, in this case, for indecision or neutrality (different clans assign different meanings to the wine, cheese and bread), so a story of that nature was the next round. And finally, the bread symbolised good things and so the final story we told was of a good time in our lives. It was a great thing to be part of. And afterwards, along with an exchange of campfire songs I got to swap a necker with one of the new Rovers - even better!
The following morning, Miguel and I sat through a presentation about Scouting in the region, which I didn't really understand but had some very awesome videos which I hope to share on Facebook soon. We then set off in the car back to his house in Guadalajara, some 3 hours away, but I will save that for another blog post as this one has already gone on long enough! And with only two days left in the wonderful wonderful country that is Mexico, the next post might be coming to you from Texas, USA... watch this space.
Drug dealers met by accident: 1
Statues of Don Quixote seen: 5
Mummified children seen: 18
Moped rides taken: 2
Ex-Pinkies met: 2
As the title implies, time is speeding up. I'm sitting in Miguel's house in Guaalajara, while he works this morning, and I'm wondering how I got to the point that there were only two days left in Mexico.
So what happened this week?
Well it all started in Celaya, meeting Gaby, Ex-Pinkie from 2010. For the uninitiated, a Pinkie is a short-term staff member at Kandersteg International Scout Centre (KISC), which is something I did during the Autumn of 2011 (I wrote a blog about it that you can read here, too). She took me for my first ever moped ride, which was exciting.
 |
| Mexican traffic was probably a bad place to start, but at least I'll now only be scared of mopeds in India or Vietnam! |
She also took me to dinner with the local Scout Group, Grupo 5 Celaya, at which I met some Caminantes, Rovers, Lobatos and Scouters from the group. They were very happy to swap a necker with 1st Helmsley Scout Group in Yorkshire
 |
| They also donated me one of their neckerchieves for my own collection, which was good because I really liked them! |
The next day I was off to Queretaro, where I met my fantastic tour guide/friend from Facebook Armando Quintana, who showed me round the beautiful town centre, the local convent and gave me a traditional Oaxacan food experience!
 |
| Yum |
The next day I was shown the sights of Guanajuato, including the Mummies. The story here is that in Mexico you have to keep up payments if you want your family's remains to stay underground; when you can't pay any more, they dig up the body and cremate it. However, when they started digging up bodies in this cemetery, they found that the ground had naturally preserved them, sometimes in incredible condition. I won't put any of the pictures up as some of them (especially the children) are really a bit creepy, and some of you might have been inspired to start eating your own Oaxacan friend grasshoppers and blue tortillas so I don't want to make you sick!
Just kidding- here's one! This is a
mummified fetus, and reportedly
the smallest mummified human
in the world.
After the mummies we saw more of the town, found something to eat, and took a trip up the funicular railway to see the giant statue at the top of the town. That evening, we found another bar to sit in while we waited for Miguel to arrive from Guadalajara, before finding his cousin's taco restaurant for a bite to eat. I asked if we could head home at that point for some sleep, so we headed home at 1am. At 3am we finally went to sleep, after talking and catching up and generally having a great time.On Saturday we took a quick trip to San Miguel de Allende to see the sights, and then on to Uriangato (with a detour back to Celaya because I left my water bottle there the first time!). At Uriangato I met up with the Red Jovenes, a network of rover scouts who meet to discuss issues important to Scouting. I also got to participate in a session that is apparently very common in Rovers in Mexico, though somehow up until now I had never encountered it.
Everyone was given some red wine, some cheese and some bread. Then, we went round in a circle, telling stories. The red wine symbolised grief or melancholy, and so first round everyone told a story about a sad time in their lives. Each story was finished with a toast of "Avante" (literally "forwards" or "ahead") and a sip of the wine. The cheese was, in this case, for indecision or neutrality (different clans assign different meanings to the wine, cheese and bread), so a story of that nature was the next round. And finally, the bread symbolised good things and so the final story we told was of a good time in our lives. It was a great thing to be part of. And afterwards, along with an exchange of campfire songs I got to swap a necker with one of the new Rovers - even better!
The following morning, Miguel and I sat through a presentation about Scouting in the region, which I didn't really understand but had some very awesome videos which I hope to share on Facebook soon. We then set off in the car back to his house in Guadalajara, some 3 hours away, but I will save that for another blog post as this one has already gone on long enough! And with only two days left in the wonderful wonderful country that is Mexico, the next post might be coming to you from Texas, USA... watch this space.
Here's another mummy, because SERIOUSLY LOOK AT THESE THINGS!!! This one is watching the space with you...
Wednesday 22 May 2013
Week 3: Up the mountains to the mother of all cities
Neckers Swapped: 2
Rover Meetings organised: 1
Games of Jenga played: 20 (at least)
Miles travelled:
Tacos eaten: 3
National Scout chiefs met: 1
Bowls of cereal eaten: 4
Well, another week has gone by, and this time I find myself sitting in a Mexican university computer suite writing this post while waiting for my friend Carina to finish submitting her coursework before we walk to her Mum´s work to get a lift to the Scout Cabaña for a rover meeting which I´m running. That´s pretty much been the way it´s gone in Mexico city; constant activity. The hustle and bustle is relentless, even when out in the ´suburb´of Tlalnepantla, where I am staying in a Primary School run by my host´s Mother.
But I´m getting ahead of myself.
Where did I leave you last? If memory serves, I left you in Tuxtla, about to go teach some rovers some songs and hop on an overnight bus to Puebla. The songs went ok, though the focus of the evening was definitely on the many games of Jenga we played (sadly, my Jenga skills are not up to the same standard as my singing skills). I was even donated a miniature Neckerchief (did I already mention that they are called Pañoletas over here?) belonging to Patty´s stuffed rabbit; of course, when I get home I will give it to my stuffed rabbit Otto, thus promoting international scouting links in the animal kingdom too.
The overnight bus to Puebla was fine, though I made the same mistake as I have made with every bus I have got so far. Always, if you can, ask how many stops the bus will make before reaching your destination! In Mexico especially, the bus stations don't always have their names in an obvious place. And if, like me, you didn't get a photo of your destination before you left, you may find yourself sitting in your seat, stationary at a bus station, panicking that you should be getting off, and wondering: would I be better getting off an risking getting left behind, or staying on and ending up somewhere I didn't mean to go? This was especially true when the bus suddenly announced that it was on a 13 hour journey to somewhere that definitely wasn't Puebla; thankfully a kind lady managed to explain to me that Puebla was the next stop and that I should really stop gripping the armrest so hard.
Unfortunately, I only got to stay in Puebla one night. But that night was great; I saw Cholula (giant pyramid with a church on top), and their beautiful cathedral, and I was offered salsa lessons by a waitress who took a little bit of a shine to me; she, like everyone else, was adamant that I should stay for at least three days, and learn to dance (my new friends were very helpful at this point, needless to say). A few beers in the evening helped to wash away the taste of the ash that was still falling in Puebla after their volcano erupted, and the next morning I was back on the bus to Mexico City.
Mexico City, to put it into perspective, houses 22 million people. That's three times the size of London. You can drive for 50km through the city and not get to the other side. It's one of the only places in Mexico that still has a working train system (a very efficient, French-built metro system) and the smog means that you can rarely see from one end to the other.
I loved it though. The pace of life was definitely faster than in Merida or Tuxtla, but there was always something to do. If I wasn’t off to visit the ruins, it was to see the scouts, or to go for a drink, or see the museum, or go and try sushi (turns out I don't like sushi). And, as before, the generosity and friendliness of people never failed to amaze me. In some places when you are travelling, it can be a bit scary when someone new starts chatting to you, even if you are with people you know, but in Mexico the people I met were always quick to let me know they were just joking around, and that I was very welcome.
My new friends even managed to get out to a nightclub, which for those of you who know me you will appreciate is no easy task! I don't know if it was just the club I was in, but unlike the UK you could buy your spirits by the bottle, at which point a waiter would come over, armed with cans of mixers and a bucket of ice, and make the drinks for you! I also tried Mezcal, which is like Tequila but more disgusting, though the shot of what I can only describe as fruit salad that came afterwards made it all better. But I digress.
I saw ruins:
I saw museums:
I met one of my international patrol for the Moot!
I also met the national chief scout of Mexico, though you will need to look here for the picture of that. Needless to say, by the time I arrived in Celaya to meet Grupo 5, one of whom used to work in Kandersteg International Scout Centre, I was so tired that I ran out of time to finish this post, hence why I'm publishing it now, almost a week late! Sorry guys! I'm off to meet some of the Mexican Moot contingent along with my bestest Mexican pal Miguel (sorry all of my other Mexican friends, but Miguel and I were roomates for three months in KISC!) You will have to wait to hear about my adventures in Guanajuato and Guadalajara though, so here's a question to keep you occupied in the meantime: Where can you find the world's smallest mummy?
Rover Meetings organised: 1
Games of Jenga played: 20 (at least)
Miles travelled:
Tacos eaten: 3
National Scout chiefs met: 1
Bowls of cereal eaten: 4
Well, another week has gone by, and this time I find myself sitting in a Mexican university computer suite writing this post while waiting for my friend Carina to finish submitting her coursework before we walk to her Mum´s work to get a lift to the Scout Cabaña for a rover meeting which I´m running. That´s pretty much been the way it´s gone in Mexico city; constant activity. The hustle and bustle is relentless, even when out in the ´suburb´of Tlalnepantla, where I am staying in a Primary School run by my host´s Mother.
But I´m getting ahead of myself.
Where did I leave you last? If memory serves, I left you in Tuxtla, about to go teach some rovers some songs and hop on an overnight bus to Puebla. The songs went ok, though the focus of the evening was definitely on the many games of Jenga we played (sadly, my Jenga skills are not up to the same standard as my singing skills). I was even donated a miniature Neckerchief (did I already mention that they are called Pañoletas over here?) belonging to Patty´s stuffed rabbit; of course, when I get home I will give it to my stuffed rabbit Otto, thus promoting international scouting links in the animal kingdom too.
The overnight bus to Puebla was fine, though I made the same mistake as I have made with every bus I have got so far. Always, if you can, ask how many stops the bus will make before reaching your destination! In Mexico especially, the bus stations don't always have their names in an obvious place. And if, like me, you didn't get a photo of your destination before you left, you may find yourself sitting in your seat, stationary at a bus station, panicking that you should be getting off, and wondering: would I be better getting off an risking getting left behind, or staying on and ending up somewhere I didn't mean to go? This was especially true when the bus suddenly announced that it was on a 13 hour journey to somewhere that definitely wasn't Puebla; thankfully a kind lady managed to explain to me that Puebla was the next stop and that I should really stop gripping the armrest so hard.
Unfortunately, I only got to stay in Puebla one night. But that night was great; I saw Cholula (giant pyramid with a church on top), and their beautiful cathedral, and I was offered salsa lessons by a waitress who took a little bit of a shine to me; she, like everyone else, was adamant that I should stay for at least three days, and learn to dance (my new friends were very helpful at this point, needless to say). A few beers in the evening helped to wash away the taste of the ash that was still falling in Puebla after their volcano erupted, and the next morning I was back on the bus to Mexico City.
Mexico City, to put it into perspective, houses 22 million people. That's three times the size of London. You can drive for 50km through the city and not get to the other side. It's one of the only places in Mexico that still has a working train system (a very efficient, French-built metro system) and the smog means that you can rarely see from one end to the other.
Their metro stations also have symbols that look like
they were taken from the Crystal Maze
I loved it though. The pace of life was definitely faster than in Merida or Tuxtla, but there was always something to do. If I wasn’t off to visit the ruins, it was to see the scouts, or to go for a drink, or see the museum, or go and try sushi (turns out I don't like sushi). And, as before, the generosity and friendliness of people never failed to amaze me. In some places when you are travelling, it can be a bit scary when someone new starts chatting to you, even if you are with people you know, but in Mexico the people I met were always quick to let me know they were just joking around, and that I was very welcome.
My new friends even managed to get out to a nightclub, which for those of you who know me you will appreciate is no easy task! I don't know if it was just the club I was in, but unlike the UK you could buy your spirits by the bottle, at which point a waiter would come over, armed with cans of mixers and a bucket of ice, and make the drinks for you! I also tried Mezcal, which is like Tequila but more disgusting, though the shot of what I can only describe as fruit salad that came afterwards made it all better. But I digress.
I saw ruins:
I saw museums:
I met one of my international patrol for the Moot!
Though both of them are going, only Raul on the left is in my patrol
I also met the national chief scout of Mexico, though you will need to look here for the picture of that. Needless to say, by the time I arrived in Celaya to meet Grupo 5, one of whom used to work in Kandersteg International Scout Centre, I was so tired that I ran out of time to finish this post, hence why I'm publishing it now, almost a week late! Sorry guys! I'm off to meet some of the Mexican Moot contingent along with my bestest Mexican pal Miguel (sorry all of my other Mexican friends, but Miguel and I were roomates for three months in KISC!) You will have to wait to hear about my adventures in Guanajuato and Guadalajara though, so here's a question to keep you occupied in the meantime: Where can you find the world's smallest mummy?
Mexican Scouting part 2: My time with Grupo 88 Naucalpan
First, a correction: In Mexican Scouting, the term Manadas (Which you will notice I spelt wrong in my last post) refers to the cub pack as a whole. The kids themselves are referring to either as Lobatos or Lobeznas for girls. Thanks to Alfonso Padilla, Manadas leader freshly paired with 28th Croydon Cub pack, for the update!
This week, I was privileged to go along to
Grupo 88’s Scout meeting. Grupo 88 operate in one of the suburbs of Mexico
City, and while with them I learnt a lot more about Scouting in
Mexico!
Firstly – I discovered that Beavers do
exist in Mexico! The Castorres,
literally beavers, are adorable little things that can actually start at age 5,
one year earlier than our Beavers in the UK. They are not an official part of
Scouting in Mexico, and they don’t exist everywhere, but that doesn’t stop
them! Their uniform is pretty cool as well; white shirt with a brown waistcoat,
and (best of all!) Little beaver hats! It might have been just because I had
been hanging round with an all-girl rover crew for the day but I felt an urge
to take one home with me.
 |
| He didn't seem as keen, but OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT HAT |
Speaking of – that’s right, a girls-only rover crew. In Grupo 88 all the official sections were split by gender. Officially this is no longer Scouts Mexico’s policy, and it was the first time I had seen groups split this way in Mexico, but Grupo 88 is huge, and so they decided to keep the historical split in place to keep the numbers manageable. It seems that, just as in the UK, larger groups with more history tend to stick by that history as they go forwards - and one of the girls I met from the head office was very surprised to hear that we have the same thing in the UK! For Grupo 88 it seems to work fine, as the two packs/troops/units/crews meet up fairly regularly, so they don’t work in isolation. I hung around with the girls rover crew for the day, as my host Mariana was a member, so it would have been a bit rude to head off and spend time with the boys! It was interesting to note that the gender split was not kept up with the Scouters; there were female scouters in charge of the boys’ Menadas, and vice versa.
Meanwhile, a Lobezna had stopped by to watch my negotiations on taking a Castorre home with me
Another difference between Grupo 88 and other groups I had seen was that 88 had their Tropa and their Caminantes together. I can’t remember if an official reason was given for this mix, but speaking to some of the scouters it seemed the thinking that the Caminantes were in a good position to act as Patrol Leaders or a Senior Patrol, lending some much needed maturity to the younger Tropa. Keeping them together also seemed to help bolster the numbers of Caminantes present, as there was less chance of them not coming to an activity because they thought it might be boring, which I know from personal experience can be a problem sometimes with our Explorer units in the UK!
I was very lucky to witness three different
ceremonies while I was with Grupo 88. First up I saw one of the Caminantes
joining the Clan de Rovers, which took place in a beautiful park setting. Then,
back at the group’s Cabana, I got to see the equivalent of a “swimming up”
ceremony where a Castorre joins the Menada; then I got to see some Lobatos
joining the Tropa. The ceremonies were all relatively similar in that they
consisted of three parts: saying goodbye, changing uniforms, and being welcomed
into the new section.
For the Castorres, the uniform change took
place in a brown velvet tube; they entered in their Castorre uniform, a leader
helped them to change into their new Menada uniform, and they emerged a new
scout! I couldn’t help but compare this with the UK, where if a leader was to
climb into a tube with a Beaver scout there might be complaints made! As it
was, there were rovers holding both ends of the tube open so you could see in
to see what was going on. Once the Lobato/Lobenza had emerged, they were presented to
the rest of the pack, and allocated a six (or Seisiesta as they are known over here).
The Menada ceremony involved the Lobato/Lobenza
arriving at two wooden poles horizontally resting on some tyres; one lower, one
higher. The Scouter for the Tropa stood past the taller pole. The Lobato
stepped over the first pole, and at this point removed their yellow shirt for
the green of the Tropa (in this case the shirt was hidden in one of the tyres).
They then jumped over the second, higher pole, and they were into the group!
All through this part the Scouter was talking to the Scout, explaining what
was expected of them now that they were going to join the Tropa, and so forth.
Once they had made it into the Tropa, they were allocated a patrol. Unlike the
Menadas, who voted from a distance, in the Tropa the patrol leaders ran up to
the scout in question (fairly towering over them in this case – must have been
a bit scary!) and then decided. In Grupo 88’s case, this was then followed up
by passing the new scout (or scouts – 3 graduated on Saturday) down a line made
by the Tropa forming two parallel lines an linking hands; the new scout was
passed down this line, with a little bit of throwing them up in the air for
good measure!
The Clan de Rovers’ ceremony had the
Caminante blindfolded, and walked from the rest of the unit to where the Clan
were waiting (just like in Cancun). In this case, that involved going up a
slope and across a suspension bridge to where the Clan waited. There were
candles arrange on the floor, and various bits of paraphernalia to symbolise
various aspects of their scouting lives (for example, a guitar to symbolise camping
and campfire songs). The new rover was again talked through the change in
section, and what it meant to them, and then they handed over their old uniform
(note that at this point they were still blindfolded!) They were then handed
their new uniform, and presented to one of the Rovers who would be their
‘teacher’ while they were new in the Clan. It works similar to a buddy system
that we might use in Cubs or Scouts, in which the Aspirante (the new person)
was shown what to do and had a person they could come to with problems and
questions and the like. The buddy started by taking them aside and explaining
to them about some of the symbolism in the Clan (and believe me, there is a LOT
in this Clan!), and the ceremony was finished, bar the usual chanting and shouting that opens and closes most scout meetings in Mexico.
The Clan all gathered to meet their latest member. I am
actually a little surprised that sunglasses aren't an official
part of the uniform
It was interesting to note that at all the
ceremonies, the words spoken to the scout who was joining were spoken pretty
quietly and to them alone. It seemed to make the ceremony that much more
personal to each scout, which I’m sure made it a lot more personal for them.
And, as before, the amount of symbolism, pageantry and meaning in the Mexican
scouting traditions is far greater than I’ve seen in the UK. Everybody’s
neckerchieves have meanings, from the colours down to the size of a line of colour.
The Clan de Rovers in Grupo 88 even have secret bits sewn into the tabs they
wear at their socks to symbolise the lifeblood of the group, and they wear
different colour tabs depending on if they are an Aspirante or a regular rover.
You can't move for meanings! And honoured as I was to be a part of their meeting on the Saturday, I was a little apprehensive when they asked me to run a meeting for them on the Tuesday evening.
"What kind of meeting do you want?" I asked.
"Oh, whatever you want to!" They said with big smiles.
"So guys, I'm here to talk to you about helping me out with a little project... can anyone dance?"
Thankfully, I had thought about this before I left the UK, and so yesterday evening we made tea, learnt some games, and I spoke a bit about Scouting in the UK and how it was different to Mexico. We also translate the rovers' prayer, which the clan use to open and close meetings. The first part is spoken by one person, and the part after the "/"
"Lord give me a valiant heart / that no vain thought turns me away from you
A noble heart / that no unworthy affection reduces
A righteous heart / that tolerates no evil
A kind heart / that no passion enslaves
And a generous heart / to serve"
At the end of
the meeting I was surprised again when I was handed a red rose, and all the
girls got a white rose. They each took it in turns to personally thank me for
my meeting, and for visiting them, and to wish me well on my trip. Finally it
was my turn to do the same (well I didn't wish myself well on my trip - well I
DO wish myself well on the trip, but - oh never mind) and with that the meeting
was finished. It was a beautiful little ceremony; I have a feeling it was just
the girl rovers of Grupo 88, but it didn't really matter - I'm sure that as I
go forwards and meet more scouts in Mexico I will find similar ways of showing
appreciation for brother and sister scouts all over the world, which is
basically what this whole trip is about!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)