What's happening in Mexico?

I have been reading about Oaxaca City lately, and it's a total mess. Not four months after I left the city I fell in love with upon entering, it went into turmoil, and is still not a happy place to be. Teachers went on strike mid-summer, demanding help for the residents of this poor southern state. They want "work, hospitals, better schools and the military out," according to a story that ran today. And they are demanding the resignation of the governor. So far, it hasn't happened. It's like any other strike we're used to seeing in the U.S., except that the police use tear gas against srikers and the strikers retaliate with rocks.

It's insane becuase I remember meeting teachers there--An American teacher who was headed east to teach in a tiny town full of indigenous workers. He was in the capital to get all his visas in place before heading out to the country. He told he he could probably hook me up with a job, he'd found one through the state, paying $9 an hour, which would allow you to live like a king down there. Plus, since it was funded by the state he'd be teaching the poorest of the poor, not simply rich Mexicans that can pay for it. This interested me because I figured I'd be teaching English to people who would probably at one point or another be migrating north to my hometown to work in the vineyards. How cool would that be? I'd tell them all the secrets, where to hang out and which burrito trucks to avoid.

It didn't happen, but I also met a female teacher who approached me on the street and asked if I'd practice my English with some of her students. I obliged, and managed to thouroughly confuse a handful of her students who were most likely in their first week of English instruction. I wonder what happened to them.

There's an AP story today about how the police took over the city core, complete with photo of burnt out cars. Of course, the strikers say they maintain control--it's obvious it's not over yet. But I remember those streets! They were a joy to walk on, centuries old with marble churches and temples all over. Discount clothing and hardware stores tucked into the nooks of 500 year-old stone buildings.

It's a totally walkable city, where the locals seem to like the tourists. It's got an open air market where you can buy goods like their famous mescal, drinking chocolate and dried grasshoppers--if you eat one, it's said that you'll return to Oaxaca. If it's left, that is. It went on thorough the Mexican presidential election in July as well.

I can't imagine what the state of California would have to be like as far as working conditions and politics before its teachers lined the streets day in and day out in a peaceful protest against the governor. The closest thing we've had recently is the Gray Davis recall-and that was a circus, not a five month standoff between government and citizen.

I wonder what business is like for the hostel I stayed at or the coffee shops and internet cafes I frequented. That cool old man I bought a skirt from in the market--he gave me a good deal. I guess I am glad I wen when I did.