Look. I've written something.

    A couple people – literally, two – have complained about how far behind this blog has gotten. I hope this update will shut you up.
    I've been teaching at the Universidad del Papaloapan in Tuxtepec, Oaxaca for about three months now, and as far as things go that concern me, all's well that is well. I qualify this with that concern me because quite frankly, I think the school's system is badly broken. Symptoms of it's dysfunction are found in the fifty percent fail rate, passing grade – sexual favor exchanges, the dismissal of the assistant vice-dean, and a tightfistedness over that which shouldn't be in the face of a laxity over that which should.
    I maintain, though, that all really is quite well because what ought not be forgotten is that I'm to maintain a Germanesque non-interventionalist perspective on things. I'm nothing but an “active observer.” So that is to say that I'm admittedly part of this jacked-up circus of a so-called public university but certainly lack the cultural membership or political clout to affect any change, at least directly. I do however sometimes revel in the – albeit presumptuous – thought that perhaps other departments look upon our language center, of which we're given virtual sovereignty, as an example of ingenuity, diligence, and organization. Having come to understand a certain strange Mexican social dynamic here though, leads me to believe instead that we're despised and plotted against.
    This dynamic has been explained to me by means of three variations of the same a joke by three different Mexicans. I understood the first person who told me this story to be apologetic, and the other two told me as a warning – to watch my back. It goes something like this: There's a vendor walking down the beach with two baskets of live crabs. One has a lid and the other does not. A beach goer asks for some fresh crab. “Which do you want? Japanese crab or Mexican crab?” asks the vendor.
    “Well, which one is which?”
    “The Japanese crabs are the ones in the basket with the lid on it.” The customer inspects the two baskets of crabs and chooses.
    “So,” the customer says to the merchant, “why do you keep a lid on the Japanese crabs and not the Mexican ones?”
    “Well you see, just like any trapped animal they want to get out. I don't have to keep a lid on the Mexican crabs however because when one is about to succeed and escape, the others grab him and pull him back in.” The story is meant to be descriptive, not explanatory; I don't know what it says about the social psyche, just that this is what seems to happen here, though I've yet to witness it personally (I have a suspicion though that it may apply to the dismissal of the assistant vice-dean, who actually resigned though under force). A testament to the ubiquity of this story, aside from that I've heard it from three unaffiliated Mexicans, I shared it with one of the other foreign teachers here and as soon as I mentioned crabs, he finished the story. Somebody had told him already.

... Later I'll substantiate what at the moment seem like bald claims.