Where I´m from, we suffer similar discrepancies: hot sand on the beach to fog on the hill: it´s always cooler by the lake. However, we do not experience 40 degrees-turned-80 degrees-turned-35 degrees. We do not experience seeing our breaths at 7:15 a.m. only to find ourselves rubbing aloevera on our noses at 3, every day. (Okay, maybe once a year. At the end of May.) We do not experience a rainy season with ducks swimming in the street from August through October. We definitely do not experience a light dusting of ash on our way to work, floating down from the local volcano.
Ah... the volcano.
I have always viewed el volcán, Popocatépetl, as an amazing natural sculpture, made when God saw the Earth as just "soooo cute!" one day and pinched its cheek, leaving a pointed pinch-mark behind. Waking up every morning I would look out my window and not believe my luck, living so close to something so incredible, so powerful, so Lord of the Rings.
Then I took a First Aid class.
I figured it would be the normal, run of the mill First Aid class: cuts, burns, bruises, CPR, the Heimlich, gas safety, fire safety.
We covered all of those topics, plus what to do in an earthquake. For those of you wondering, the facilitator suggested el Triangulo de Vida,
which while researching afterwards I learned is a very controversial method for surviving earthquakes and is not recommended by both the American Red Cross and the United States Geological Survey because most injuries in an earthquake are caused by falling objects, not falling structures. (The "correct" method depends on the country, however, and how the buildings are built in that country, so maybe the guy running the class was right. I just didn't like him very much.)
I will never have to worry about earthquakes, though; mini ones happen in Mexico City every so often, and the drama queens of Puebla always claim that they "totally felt it!" but I never have.
After the what-to-do-in-case-of-an-earthquake briefing, I wanted the class to be over. Three hours had passed. Our speaker had made several sexist comments. I had to pee. I made to put my notebook away...
"Y ahora vamos a platicar de los pasos que uno debe de tomar en caso de erupción de volcán."
Umm... and now we´re going to talk about the steps one should take in case of a what eruption?? Volcano? What volcano? You can´t possibly mean the snow-capped mountain I look forward to seeing everyone morning, can you? I mean, that thing is so majestic! It would never hurt me! Would it?
I learned that yes, indeed, it would.
But before my mom has a heart attack reading this, I will tell you that I also learned the chances of it blowing its top are nearly nil. My heart palpitations soon regulated. It also helped to know that in terms of "risk zones" we live in the outskirts of the "yellow zone," or "zona 2," which will only receive that "light dusting of ash" mentioned above. No lava. And the steps toward saving yourself aren't super complicated: stay inside. Make that just one step toward saving yourself. It sounded easy enough, and nothing like the motion picture of Pompeii: The Sequel I was painting inside my brain. I was soon completely calm. Yet I couldn't help feeling a little disoriented…
"I live with a volcano. It is big. It is active."
…but only for a little while.
Because, mom, Popocatépetl is also beautiful, magnificent, a sight to behold, and in my opinion the top reason Cholula is such a magical place to live.
I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, come rain or shine, or even a volcano blowing up and spewing ash everywhere. I mean, imagine the blog entry on that one!
